#And longer brew times for the spices I think

[archieimagines]

Imagine finding Niragi after the Beach.

first time writing aib! i haven't written in a while so i was definitely a little rusty, but i'll have more free time from now on so ideally the next ones will be better! warnings: niragi. a drastically unhealthy relationship (of course), niragi slander, burn injuries and gore, guns, problematic grief, mentions of massacre. if you have any triggers i doubt you'd want to even look at this man, apologies. requested by: @nonsocosamett3r3. can't tag, but i hope you see this! for now, aib requests are open! written by: archie support me on ko-fi!

The store was quiet, only tainted by the sound of lit gas heating your ramen and the quiet bubbling of the soup.

Your eyes fixed on the flame like it was magnetic. After the horrors of the Beach, something just drew you to it. That little flame…

Amazing.

Amazing how something so small could grow so big that it would engulf the whole resort. The whole community. Your whole future, and who you'd planned to spend it with.

You’d loved Suguru for so long, even before you’d arrived in this world. You’d vowed to love him as long as you were alive, but that was before he’d given into his brewing internal sickness.

It hurt too hard to think it. It utterly carved your heart to think that his only relief from himself might take fire and flames. The only way to be kind to him would be to let him die, and finally, it came. He was better off dead, and yet... you couldn’t help aching for him.

He was the one person you’d come into this with. The one person you knew you could trust. Even when he was at his worst. 

You shook your head. It wouldn’t do to dwell on how he’d protected you from the witch trial. How he’d given you a pistol and told you to hide on the roof. “Wait for me up there,” he’d said, a firm hand on your back to nudge you towards the stairs, his spare pistol pressed into your palms. “Anyone aims at you and they’re dead.”

Even at his worst, his most unhinged, he still took care of you. He was never all ba-

No. Thinking like this would only make it harder. You needed to focus on how he was a murderer, how he was manic, how he embodied all of humanity’s darkest traits. Perhaps then, you could function in this world without him.

A sigh. The cooker’s flame danced before you, and all you could see in your mind was Niragi. How the fire clung to him. How he screamed and thrashed—

You shut the gas off.

No, you couldn’t look at it. The flame.

The spices in the ramen no longer smelled good; they churned your stomach and the burn of suppressed tears sat in your sinuses. Your head dropped into your hands, the heels of your palms pressed to your eyes. You wouldn’t cry over him. He was a murderer. A sadistic, psychopathic, narcissistic—

A clatter behind you.

“Auh, phuck.”

Panic pushed you to your feet, your breath hitched. You’d perched in the homewares aisle with your campfire cooker, and wherever that distorted voice came from was barely two aisles back.

It was so dark, you were so tired, and so many people hated you. Not even through any fault of your own. You didn’t choose to love the most hated man at the Beach. You were an easy target and anyone who recognised you surely wouldn’t hesitate, so you grabbed for the pistol from your belt and readied yourself for an assault. You’d not die at the hands of an angry Beach resident tonight.

Slow footsteps took you through the store, startled every time you heard a grunt or a clash. Someone was rummaging through the shelves and audibly struggling.

The smash of a glass bottle on the floor, then a strained voice. “Phuckin ‘ell.”

You neared the corner of the aisle and peered around, pistol held out before you. You only hoped they couldn’t hear the trembling rattle of your hold on it.

What you saw was inconclusive. Someone with a flashlight held in their mouth, pointed at shelves full of medical wares. They struggled with gathering supplies, knocking them over instead and hissing in pain, but you couldn’t gather a single feature.

This was your chance to strike a new alliance. They were clearly wounded and in no fighting condition, so you could easily best them if you needed to, but… Would it really be worth it to make a connection with someone that may surely hold back your chances in a game?

You had half a mind to turn away, leave them to their own struggling devices-

But the choice was taken. A loud groan and the flashlight dropped from the person’s mouth, clattered to the floor, and rolled a few inches.

The stream of light pointed directly to your shoe and lit up the tip of your weapon.

You might’ve expected the person to be startled with the realisation that they weren’t alone, to stumble back or at least gasp. But instead, you were met with an audible sneer.

“Ah. Gonna kill me?”

The end of your pistol still pointed into the darkness, though you could just barely see the silhouette of your target. And oh, you quivered. Your aim was as fractured as your heart, and you’d never held anyone in place with your aim before. It was clear to see.

A familiar snort. “You couldn’t hit me if you tried.”

Your brows tugged together. Your voice had left you entirely, chest heaving with the growing panic at how this tall figure found no sense of danger in you. And yet, that voice was so…

“S-Suguru?”

“Oh?” A beat of silence, and then a soft, sore laugh. “I taught you better than to tremble, baby.”

You almost dropped the pistol. It couldn’t be. You’d seen him fall off the roof shrouded in flame, and it’d been long days. Death was the only escape for him, and he needed it. But here he was, and you couldn’t help but hope it was true.

You dove for that flashlight to check that your wants hadn’t deceived you and scooped it up to point directly at Niragi to take him in in all his… misery.

Your heart broke. The sound of it was a distraught gasp, instant tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Suguru…”

His gorgeous skin was rippled with the fusion of the fire. His hair ragged and burnt, chest and arms crimson, raw and leaking with infectious fluids.

His face scrunched with immediate hatred, his voice a pained hiss as he turned away. “Don’t. Don’t you fucking pity me.”

“I’m not-“

“Don’t.”

Ah, this was your Suguru. Blunt and dismissive, hostile even to you, but you knew how to handle him. You didn’t let him see dizzying wave of relief that drowned you, you held back those tears. Even if he was the most hated man in this realm, he was yours. You weren’t alone in this world anymore.

You took a brief moment to breathe and let your head calm before stepping in close, light shining on his arms. The skin had melted, black patches of fabric stuck into his skin, all the way up to his bare torso. But he didn’t like you looking.

He snatched away the light and the next thing you knew, you were blinded. Your eyes squinted against it, blinking, brows tugged together as you tried to seek out his face once more against the light.

A delicate hand to your cheek, a soft sigh. That was the sound of lazy Sunday mornings with him, the sound he’d always made with his nose buried into your hair.

You let your eyes close, transporting back to simpler times with his touch. His thumb ran so gently across your cheekbone and for the briefest moment you could pretend things were normal, that he was just your boyfriend back in Tokyo. Your beautiful, troubled, bespectacled boyfriend.

If only he didn’t smell of ash and molten flesh, you could have convinced yourself that nothing had changed.

His touch dropped away, the light directed away and your eyelids fluttered open once more. His gaze was so soft on yours. How could this boy with beautiful doe eyes ever hurt another? Perhaps… Just perhaps, he’d learned his lesson. He didn’t deserve this life.

“Let me see,” you murmured, carefully taking the flashlight from his hold. He was like a lost child as he watched you inspect his chest, so gentle as you opened his shirt to see the scarring. You couldn’t help the grimace as you peeled some of the sticky fabric from yellowed, skinless flesh, but he didn’t even wince. He just watched you quietly, intimately.

You met that gaze, and the butterflies in your chest were dizzying. “I’ll dress it for you. Okay?”

A grunt of agreement.

#alice in borderland imagine #niragi imagine #niragi x reader #niragi suguru x reader #niragi suguru imagine #aib niragi #aib #aib niragi x reader #aib niragi imagine #alice in borderland #niragi #niragi suguru #dori sakurada x reader #dori sakurada imagine #dori sakurada #written by archie

[bg-brainrot]

Day four of Astarion x Rogue!Tav winter fluff for the BG3 Winter Holiday Challenge!

Prompt: Mulled Wine

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Premise: Astarion walks into you making mulled wine. He doesn’t understand why you must ruin wine for the sake of winter. When he refuses to see your point, you find another way to show him.

Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Holidays, Alcohol, Kisses, post-cannon

Word count: ~1k

“Darling, what are you doing to that red wine?” Astarion walks into the kitchen, turning his nose up at the concoction you’re stirring.

“I’m making mulled wine,” you say, turning to smile at him. “What do you think I’m doing?”

He gives a single sniff and turns his lips down into a grimace. “My nose tells me that you’re ruining a perfectly good bottle of wine.” You drop the smile and give him a glare.

“What do you mean ruining?” you ask, incredulous. “I’m following the instructions that Gale gave me to the letter. Though I guess I am skipping over some of his longer-winded tangents…” A quick glance over at the notes on the counter confirms your accuracy.

The vampire shakes his head at you and walks up to the stove where you’re still stirring. “I have no doubt that you’re executing it perfectly, dear. You’ve made poisons that require more finesse than this. However, adding all of those spices– and oranges? What was wrong with the original wine?”

“Nothing was wrong. I just wanted to make something seasonal,” you say, feeling the need to defend your creation. You look down at your mixture, at the various pieces of seasonal flavors swirling as you stir, and you’re almost positive that it will taste perfect on a cold winter’s day like today.

“Why not a nice buttered rum? I don’t mind if you torment the rum.”

You roll your eyes at this, knowing full well now that this line of questioning was meant to be entertainment for Astarion. He was likely just bored and wondering why you were spending so much time in the kitchen. “I don’t want buttered rum. Why are you so against mulled wine– when was the last time you even had mulled wine?”

A moment of silence passes between you, and you turn away from your pot to look at him, suddenly fearful that you accidentally struck a nerve you hadn’t meant to. However, he just looks pensive, a single finger tapping his chin thoughtfully. When his answer finally comes, he just says it with a sense of awe, “You know, it’s likely been over 200 years.”

“Oh,” you respond, pursing your lips. You gesture at him with the spoon you’re holding. “Maybe it would be like a brand new experience?”

“It could be,” he responds, and while there’s some hesitation to his tone, he does sound more amenable to the idea now. He wafts the steam from the pot toward his nose, as if a better sniff might change his mind. Instead your lover physically recoils and places a hand over his face. “Gods, what are these spices?”

“Let’s see... cardamom, cinnamon, and star anise,” you recite, looking back at the paper Gale wrote you.

Your lover makes a face at you before he chokes out, “Star anise? That’s where the pungent smell is coming from. Darling, as the resident connoisseur of scents, you should have asked me for your spices.”

“Ah,” you breathe out, understanding dawning on you. You point the spoon at him excitedly, “I got it!”

“Got what?” he says, staring at you blankly. You can feel his assurance in your ability to make mulled wine deteriorating by the second. No matter– you know how to fix this.

Scooping up a bit of your brew in the stirring spoon, you blow gently on it to cool it down and hold it out to him. “Try it.”

“Oh no,” he immediately says, taking a step back. “I refuse to be your test subject.”

“Fine then, let me try it first.” You sip the mulled wine out of the spoon, savoring it on your tongue. It’s sweet, it’s spiced, and it tastes just like cozying up to a fireplace– your face breaks into a wide grin at its rich flavor. As you suspected, the star anise only gives it a subtle note, none of that strong licorice smell it typically has. Astarion wouldn't remember that after hundreds of years away from drinks like this. “Mmm, it’s perfect.”

Astarion looks at you for a second, as if waiting for your composure to crack, your body to convulse with disgust. When nothing happens, he only asks, “What does it taste like?”

“Would you like to try it?” You’re beaming at him now, absolutely certain that this will change his mind about mulled wine.

He still seems cautious, probably wondering if this is all some ruse devised by you and Gale.

Sensing his worries, you scoop another spoonful for yourself, take a drink, and close the distance between you. “Mmm mm,” you say to him, behind closed lips.

“What?” the man asks, raising a single eyebrow at you.

“Mmm mm!” you repeat, pointing to your lips, which you’re emphatically puckering at him.

Your request clicks in his head a moment later and he can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “My love, have I told you that you’re utterly ridiculous lately? Because I feel like you’re overdue.” Nevertheless, he takes a step forward, placing his hands on your waist and pulling you close as he meets your pursed lips with his.

The kiss, much like the mulled wine, starts off sweet but quickly comes with a kick of spice. Astarion’s tongue traces your bottom lip and you open your mouth to allow him in. One of his hands finds your face and angles it to deepen the kiss, locking his mouth with yours to try to keep the wine from spilling.

You feel a few trickles of liquid fall down your chin, but you find that you don’t mind– in fact, the only thing on your mind is the way Astarion’s tongue is relishing the mulled wine. The vampire gives a low hum as his tongue circles yours, tasting the liquid fully. He has yet to run away in revulsion, so you’re pretty sure he likes it. Or at the very least likes kissing you.

When he finally pulls away, a bit short of breath, his lips stained with wine, he gives you a smirk. “I think I finally understand the appeal of mulled wine.”

“So does that mean you liked it?” you ask him, equally breathless.

Astarion swipes his thumb down your chin, wiping away the wine that dribbled down before bringing it to mouth. He gives you a dark, lidded look as he licks it off and gives a rumbling hmm. “I’m not sure yet. You’ll have to give me another taste.”

It’s slow going, but you enthusiastically ensure that your lover gets his fill of mulled wine.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #rogue + rogue #astarion x reader #bg3holidayfluffle23

[archonsoflove]

His love language | part 1

featuring: alhaitham, zhongli, kaveh x gender neutral! reader

{words of affirmation}

Alhaitham is a quiet soul. Late nights are spent with parchment paper illuminated by warm candlelight. And in these quiet moments he finds himself writing letters to you. Your travels to Fontaine for research have left him noticing your absence, carving a space hollow in his heart until your return. 

I can never say it enough, but I adore you, and wish you the safest of travels. Come back to me in one piece. The letter he gave to you before your departure two days prior.

I find myself thinking of you more often once the sun sets. Busy days give way to night, and my mind is no longer filled with work, but of you, and wondering what sights you are seeing without me beside you. This is what he writes this particular evening.

He seals the letter with a wax seal, intricate lettering on the front addressed to the nation across the mountains. If he could write a million more poems, prose and letters, he would, knowing you would read every single one of them. 

•

{quality time}

Evenings with Zhongli are spent walking through the Harbour. Lanterns spill golden light onto your faces, and whenever he catches your eye, his breath hitches, words leaving him completely. 

After years of experiencing and feeling, he is certain you are the love he had been searching for all this time. 

He speaks of legends long gone, and old friends from decades past. And if you could, you would listen to him for as long as he is able to weave stories into being. 

Tea in the mornings is brewed to perfection. You wake to Zhongli puttering in the kitchen, the fresh smell of mint and honey in the air rousing you from sleep. Silk sheets brush against naked skin as you sit down – at his stubborn request – to try his tediously perfected blend. 

The sun leaking through a window leaves him entranced, and he can not help but kiss you tenderly, sweet tea on your lips and between tongues. Peaceful mornings like these, where you both have all the time in the world to bask in each other’s presence is what you love most.  

•

{giving gifts}

Kaveh is sincere and giving to a fault. Silver bracelets, spices and light novels brought home from international projects are the least of your worries now. Returning from a project in the desert with a small desert fox bundled up in Kaveh’s cloak tells you all you need to know. 

This time, his gift is very different and very much alive.

“I know you said we weren’t ready to adopt, but maybe, just maybe….” Kaveh steps cautiously into the living room, handing the bundle over to you tentatively. “Maybe we can keep this little one?”

“Oh, Kaveh…” you sigh in both awe and exasperation. The little bundle wriggles in your grasp and a small head pops out. Tan ears flop out first, before a pointy black nose is nuzzling against your hand. 

“A fox!” You couldn’t contain the smile fighting against your scowl. “Kaveh…how did you even catch this one?”

Kaveh gives you a relieved laugh, a light flush high on his cheekbones. “They followed me home from the desert. I think they lost their mother. I simply couldn’t leave them there!”

“They?” your eyes widen. “There are more?”

Later that evening, Alhaitham knocks on your door, a box in hand. Sure enough there are two more foxes. It seemed your family of two was now five, and you couldn’t help but think that it was just the perfect number.

-------- 》 Part 2

MASTERLIST

#alhaitham x gender neutral reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x y/n #kaveh x gender neutral reader #kaveh x y/n #kaveh x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x gender neutral reader #zhongli x y/n #zhongli headcanons #kaveh headcanons #alhaitham headcanons #genshin impact headcanon #Genshin Impact fanfiction #genshin impact fluff #alhaitham fluff #kaveh fluff #zhongli fluff #zhongli x reader fluff #kaveh x reader fluff #alhaitham x reader fluff

[justjasper]

do you have any domestic moreid headcanons?

Pre-Relationship

They become fast friends, they hang out a lot, they call each other at odd hours.

Reid gets Morgan into Star Trek by making him watch Deep Space Nine. Morgan would fight god for Captain Sisko.

They fall into bed sometime in season 1, and keep doing so on and off for years while their feelings brew.

Reid wakes up alive after the events of Amplification with Morgan by his bedside, and they have a conversation full off feelings. They become "official" here.

Newly Established

They can both cook; Reid looked after his mother and went to college young, Morgan's dad cooked, and Morgan followed his example.

Nobody proposes moving in together officially, Reid just spends less and less time at his apartment until the lease runs out. He mentions it to Morgan quite matter of factly, and Morgan shrugs, smiles, pulls his pretty boy in for a kiss. "Most of your books are here already."

A morning where they don't have to work goes like this: Morgan gets up early to go for a run with Clooney. By the time he's back, Reid is making is making them breakfast. They eat, and then shower together.

Morgan has a decent vinyl collection and likes to listen to them on chill evenings. Reid is a musical sponge, and if he gets a chance when they're on cases, will seek out record shops for something interesting or rare.

Their favourite takeout is Thai. Reid is one of those "white guy with spice tolerance" outliers.

Well Established

It takes some time for them to switch to using first names in private, Morgan takes significantly longer. It's not a problem, they've known and loved each other a long time with these names. Neither of them shorten each other's names.

Clooney is a K9 dropout, and highly trainable, and Reid teaches him a lot of silly tricks. He likes to show Clooney magic tricks.

One of the properties Morgan buys has a decrepid grand piano in it. He gets it restored for Reid, who's dabble with learning on and off. He plays the piano every day.

Morgan thinks Reid doesn't really believe in marriage as an institution, and is okay with that, they don't have to get married, even if they could. Reid proposes to Morgan one morning in shower.

Reid never gets an official autism dignosis, wanting the plausible deniability while working for the goverment. They talk about it. Morgan starts packing a weighted blanket in his go-bag for him (people often ask why his go back is so heavy).

The Future

They get married once it's legal, a simple ceremony but all their important people are there.

When they leave the BAU it's a joint decision. They're both ready for a new adventure, with less actual threat of bodily harm.

Morgan goes into property full time, flipping houses and rent-to-buying them to local people/families, instead of selling them to landlord who will end up pushing locals out of the area.

Reid goes into research/lecturing.

They move to Chicago to be closer to family. They move Diana to be close them them too.

As Reid gets older, he has to use a cane more. His migranes are mostly under control, but eventually he experiences migralepsy (migraine seizures). The dog they get after Clooney passes becomes Reid's service dog.

The Future (with kid)

Reid carries (he's trans). It's an unplanned pregnancy, but they go for it. Reid is terrible at being pregnant.

They have a daughter they name Sam after Morgan's dad (bc I chose this fanon name years before CM bothered to give Morgan's dad a canon name and I am sticking with it out of spite).

Morgan's sisters teach Reid to do Sam's hair.

Morgan is very involved when sam becomes a Girl Scout, and coaches her softball team.

Reid teaches her piano. They read together every day.

They struggle not to intefer when she's a teen and it becomes apparent the girl she keeps bringing home is her first crush.

They both try so hard to be present, devoted dads that they can can fall into helicopter parent tendencies.

#moreid #headcanon #derek morgan #spencer reid #my fic #not really but

[potionpeddlerpatchy]

word count: ~8K

paring: Dragon Hybrid!Kirishima x Princess!Reader

warning(s): oral (reader receiving), outdoor shenanigans, dirty talk, hint of a size kink, but overall pretty vanilla. Also, mentions of chronic illness - nothing descriptive but it is in there!!

authors note: hello everyone! Here I am, finally posting on this new blog how exciting! This was a request/commission that my darling wife gracie (@/melodramaticmura) asked of me; as she really wanted a nibble of this Royal AU I have brewing in the background. May you enjoy the fantasy just as much as I did when I wrote it. 🔮

“Do you think we’re going to beat them?”

Your soft voice rang out in the small carriage you were currently riding in; seeing in the corner of your eye the way your travel companion rolled her eyes - her own soft, playful, scoff barely heard over the sound of the wheels hitting the rocks that were scattered along the used path.

“I suppose you would hope so, hm?” She teased, a familiar impish grin crossing her lips as she looked at you, “If they do, then they cheated.”

“Cheated?” You couldn't help but let a little laugh over such a childish accusation, eyes leaving their spot of gazing out the window briefly to fully look at your friend “Why would you accuse them of something so infantine?”

“Because it would be the truth! We started our journey two days before they did and we are on the fasted route to Edhellond. The only way they could have a chance to beat us is if they were to fly, which would be cheating. Though again, I suppose that is what you are hoping for.”

“What are you on about?” You groaned, watching as your friend shrugged her shoulders before looking out her own window.

“You’re wanting to see him again, the Southern Prince’s royal advisor, why else would your eyes be glued to the sky, if not to see if there’s a dragon.”

“You’re so full of it…” You smiled, foot kicking out to hit her leg; unable to help yourself in joining in on her harmonious giggles that filled the compartment at your actions.

It was almost the Autumn Equinox. And, as per traditions from long ago, the eastern Kingdom of Edhellond had extended their invitation to royalty and nobles from all over the land, yourself included, as they celebrated the harvest in their land.

It was a tradition all kingdoms held, as they wrought the fruit their land had provided to them. The North, Kingdom of Dorthonion, would have their celebration in the winter, to hold a solstice celebration in lieu of their harvest of their silver, lumber, and pelts of the animals they so tenderly took care of. The South did the same in the summer, the Kingdom of Deira would host a grand solstice party of their own over their spices and jewels, with grand displays of lights in the sky. Yourself, in the west, would celebrate in the spring for that was when the fruit within all of Amon Lanc would finally start to bloom; the Equinox commemoration would be filled with only the finest fruits - with your friend that sat before aiding the celebration efforts as her own kingdoms would follow in line with yours.

And now, it was time for autumn and Edhellond’s chance to shine.

Normally you, and your fellow traveling companion, would scarcely attend the festivity - as you would with most of the grand seasonal events - for the fall season was also a time of great harvest for your kingdoms; too much work was needed to be done to finish collecting all the crops of your lands and prepare for the winter ahead.

But this year things were a little different. With the raging war within the other lands finally coming to end, celebrations such as these were no longer on hold; as were all other royal customs and traditions. You and your fellow friend, another princess, had debuted shortly before the war broke out, halting the usual royal tour that would follow a debuting princess as they traveled across the different kingdoms. To mingle in the different courts and customs in hopes to gain a suitor and marriage proposal.

You were now on that tour, as a favour to your friend. To not only help her with the momentous task of gaining the affections, and thereby a marriage proposal, of one of the crown princes before the spring comes once more, but to help guide her and be a close companion that she would desperately need on the journey.

And you would not complain, nor turn down, such a favour for you had longed to go on tour, for traveling was in your blood; a favoured recreation. And though the pressures were not so high upon your own head, there were still present. And having her there would also ease your own burdens and stress of courtship and finding your own companion.

Furthermore, it only made sense to go to Edhellond and join in their fun, to enjoy the beauty of their land and sea for it was the next stop on the tour. As you already spent the entirety of the summer months in Deria, and participated in the Summer Solstice they hosted. It seemed only fitting, and proper, to attend this one.

And due to such a hold, from the politics and practices normally held, the other royal families thought the same.  From all over the land, the North, the West, and even now the South who had histories of finding such thing unworthy of their time, have now all decided to gather to join in on the festivities.

“It’s because they want a chance to court you~” you would coo and tease your friend as your slowly traveled east, always enjoying the way the tapestry princess would brush you off and claim otherwise - you knew different.

“Perhaps they want to see you, my darling dove.” She would snap back, though her tone never biting as she would smile up at you from her stitchwork; a task that always left you in awe as despite the bumpy road her work was always pristine.

The teasing would never cease throughout the journey, to lighten the mood and boredom you both faced as the carriage that held you both unhurriedly made its way to the desired destination. As reading poetry, delicately doing petite points, or looking in the sky in hopes to see a dragon could only do so much to lessen the underlying dread and anxiousness the journey to each kingdom would give.

Nonetheless, despite the agonizingly slow journey, you arrived in Edhellond. Being graciously welcomed by your hosts,  House Blumenthal, as they fawned over your arrival; with many maids and servants scurrying about to properly prepare all that you needed to enjoy the Equinox that was now only a week away.

They did the same, merely a few days later when the Southern Royalty, and your newfound companions, arrived. You couldn’t help but watch in amusement as many a person scampered about around them; causing Prince Bakugou ire.

As well, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes when you were finally caught by your friend. Telling her with counterfeit annoyance to “stop being such a child” when she nudged your side with a giggle.

It was not long after their arrival that the day of the festivity came to fruition; not long after their arrival that you were cooped up in your chambers for almost the entirety of the day to be appropriately done up by maids that you were not used to. 

You wished you could get ready with your friend as you normally did. Longing for her company and chatter, something that always eased any tension and nerves before such a large event. To properly thank, and admire her work while she was there, as you were dressed in a gown of striking red with cloth and jeweled leaves so carefully carved into your bodice and skirts in the most flattering of ways; with a beautiful crown-like headpiece to match. 

Your only solace was that she was in the room next to you, so close yet so far, and that she herself was begrudgingly going through the same motions. Unable to have you lace her up in a manner that she preferred, or to carefully place your crown upon her brow.

You didn’t even have a moment once you both emerged from your chambers to do so, wishing you could also fawn over the light orange and golden gown she so delicately wore, before being swept into the festivities. Being whisked from person to person to engage in idle chatting, courtesies and false decorum of court, and being swept away every now and then to partake in a dance with some wealthy lord or prince of a small kingdom.

Normally at events, and parties, such as these you were glued to your friend’s hip. Giggling and chatting throughout the night as you partook in the copious amounts of drink oft provided as you watched from afar the tribulations of many an unwitting person as they stumbled about trying to navigate all of it properly. Only engaging with other nobility when approached, or when members of your party would take either of your arms in theirs and force you to mingle.

Now you could only watch her from afar as she slowly made her way through the throughs of people wishing for a word, as many a lord took your hand to wish for a dance. You could feel your face start to ache, your rosy cheeks sore from all the polite smiles you forced yourself to give out of courtesy as you obliged all their requests; trying your hardest to stay engaged with their meager and boring chatter.

Your eyes could not help but wander after a while, towards where your friend was. Glancing every now and then to see which partner had currently held her verbally captive as you twirled about. Eyes becoming almost glued to her when you caught her conversing with the dragon lord, and advisor to the Deria’s crown Prince Bakugou, Kirishima; the man that she had been teasing you about throughout the journey to this kingdom.

What they were talking about you could not know, the prattle of everyone else around you far too loud to be able to hear, but your curiosity was undoubtedly peaked - especially at the small glances they passed your way, and your friend’s impish smiles. 

“What has your attention, pretty birdy, hmm?”

“S-sorry,” Your apology was almost breathless as your trance was broken away from the scene before you, shaking your head gently to rid yourself of the slight stupor you were in “I suppose it is rather rude of me to not pay attention to you, Keigo.”

“Well yes, but I suppose comfort is playing a factor,” Keigo smiled, twirling you away from the crowd so you could once again focus on him “You are forgiven, dear princess.”

“I would hope so.” You gave an airy chuckle, eyes still unable to meet his gaze; not due to embarrassment, but rather being unable to handle the soft look you knew his eyes were casting you. 

It was the same gaze that caused you to agree to the dance to begin with. His knowledge of you never being able to refuse him when he looked at you like that, especially for something so minute, was used against you. It always was, if you were honest, even when you both were young children. That despite your aching, sore, feet and your desire to know what your friend could possibly be chatting about with Lord Kirishima, you relented to those soft eyes.

You were just happy that there was an air of comfortability with him, an obvious one due to the familiar bond you shared, so you would not have to put on false airs. That decorum was now not a requirement and you could just simply relax for but a moment.

“Though I do wonder,” His voice rumbled, breaking over the almost silent shuffle of your feet “if some chatting nobles in a crowd are more important than a dance with me?”

“In this moment,” You lifted your head, eyes meeting his gaze for the first time since the dance began “it is.”

“Oh, pray tell?”

“The princess of Cashmerask, my friend as you know, is in that crowd and I wish to know what she is up to.”

“And you believe that seeing her, is more important than a dance with me? Your head knight whom you haven’t seen in almost a fortnight?”

“Keigo,” Your voice turned almost icy, a warning to him not to push further with his thoughts “I do not think I need to tell you why I believe it is. Nor, do I think you want me to.”

“No, your highness,” His tone matched yours as his eyes narrowed down onto you, “I think I do.”

“To put it simply, bonds formed by choice are more important than the ones formed by duty. My want, and thoughts, to see her take my interest away and thereby hold more importance to me than a simple dance with you. Bar none.”

You knew what you said was almost cruel, but you found your tongue acting in defense of your friend and overall desires before your mind could have a chance to stop it. And you were then not surprised when he abruptly halted your dance - not bothering to care that it had now caused a slight chain of reaction as other pairs bumped into you.

Keigo gave you a knowing look, one of anger mixed with almost a sense of hurt, before stomping off; pushing his way through the pairs of people now in his path due to his actions. You made a motion to go after, your feet taking a step towards the open and crooked line he had made before they faltered; a sound wafted over you and caused you to halt. 

It was your name. It was not spoken loudly but rang across the room like a ringing bell. When your eyes peered over to where in the room it came, you saw your closest friend; beckoning you towards her with a gentle motion of her hand. 

At that moment you were hesitant, in all ways. Your mind could not stop its racing for even a moment to give you a sense of clarity, a direction of which action to take. On whether or not you go and comfort your oldest friend, a man who has spent his whole life looking after you and your happiness, as you always had whenever you scabbled. Or to simply enjoy your night, to answer the delicate call of your other friend.

It only took a breath, when the murmurs of the people around you started to fill your ears, bringing you back into the reality of the moment that you made your decision.

And you decided to choose enjoyment.

You swiftly moved from where you stood, away from the throngs of people whispering about you, towards where your name had been called; towards the reached-out hand of your friend. The gentle squeeze she gave once your hand was in hers, along with the soft smile, was more than enough reassurance to know you made the right choice. 

Especially when that soft smile turned into one of playful mischievousness as she tucked your arm under hers and dragged you away towards the party of people she was currently engaged in conversation with.

The party in question, that stood waiting for your arrival and your friends’ return, was but only a few people. Of course, other lords and ladies smiled kindly when your feet finally stilled, but only two brightened as if awaiting you; proving they were the few that kept your friend company as you danced.

It was Neito Monoma, a prince of a smaller kingdom here in the Eastern land, idly chatting with the red-headed man who had been plaguing your thoughts these past few weeks. You had never met Prince Monoma, at least not recently enough to be in your memory, but you figured out all you needed to know about who he was when the pair of you walked up to him.

He stood with hands behind his back, shoulders squared and upright, in a manner similar to the lord he was chatting with. But unlike Kirishima who held a quiet grace in how he stood, held an aura of approachability, Monoma seemed to stand this way not out of formality but rather in a way of dominance bordering on pompusiouness. In an exaggeration of his view of being more important that the people around him. The smug smile he cast your way was more than enough proof to showcase what you thought.

You cast your friend a glance, eyes squinting slightly to emote your pity towards her for having to converse with the likes of Monoma for more than a single moment. She responded, eyebrows raising slightly to show her agreement, a gesture small enough that it went unnoticed before her usual polite smile came back into view as she greeted the small party.

“Ah, there you are!” Monoma greeted, bowing his body in greeting as he did so “I was wondering when you would come back. You took so long, I thought you might have run off!”

His laugh made you want to scowl, the forgery of genuineness within it almost too much for you to handle; but, as the lady you were, your smile never faltered as you bent your knees is a small curtsy towards the Prince.

“I do apologize for that, your highness, my sore feet were the cause of us taking our time to get back to you. I’m sure you can understand?”

“Well, as a matter of fact - !”

“Oh, I am sure you do, Prince Monoma. Plenty of women fawn at your feet for a chance at a waltz.” Your friend interjected, cutting off any chance the snobbish prince had of boasting further about himself - though new to you it was clear she had more than enough of it. “But, dancing is not why we are here, now is it?”

“No, it is not,” Monoma smiled, the flattery given to him a proper diversion from the rudeness of being interrupted “rather an invitation for a walk and chat within the palace gardens.”

“The gardens?” You uttered, your interest piqued over the chance to get away from the event.

“Yes, you see, I bumped into Lord Kirishima while on my way to try and find some air, you know how heavy rooms cause my head to ache. ” Your friend began, pulling you closer to her “And while we were figuring a solution, Prince Monoma here joined in and brought up the palace gardens; boating about how they were the most beautiful of all the 5 kingdoms. He so kindly offered to show me them, but of course, I could not just do so without you. After all, we spend many an afternoon enjoying the flora!”

She squeezed your arm, a giddy smile appearing across her lips as she recalled that sweet and shared pastime of yours out loud, before continuing on. “So, I asked if you could join us. If, of course, your feet would allow you the ability to do so.”

“Sore they are, but they never enough to stop me from such a lovely invitation.” You smiled, squeezing your friend’s arm in kind “How thoughtful of you to think of me.”

“Well, truly, Lord Kirishima is to thank for his aide in the matter.” Your friend directed your thanks towards him with a hand flourish “He so kindly was willing to offer his arm to you while I was conflicted about the matter. For I would have loved for you to take my arm, but Prince Monoma had already taken it.  And as we all know, it is rather improper for a lady to go unescorted.”

“Oh, is that so?” You uttered, eyes scanning across his form before returning to look at your friend; her giddy smile turned impish once again as she gave you a sly wink.

“Uh, yes, your highness” Kirishima stuttered out, stepping forward to extend his arm for you to take, an expectant and kind smile on his face. “If you will allow me.”

“Of course.” You nodded, hand finding the crook in his elbow to latch on to.

You watched as your friend did the same, casting one last glance towards you as she took the arm of her companion for the evening stroll; it was clear to you by the look in her eyes, and in the invitation as a whole, that she was willing to sacrifice her night in the company of a man that she despises just so you could have a moment alone with the man who you had grown quite fond of. It warmed your heart. With a deep breath, you nodded your head, gesturing to Monoma, and thereby Kirishima, to lead the way out of the grand hall and into the gardens. 

~

The gardens themselves were beautiful, the perfectly manicured hedges and flowerbeds proof of the care that was put in to maintain them; however, they were not as grand or spectacular as the haughty prince had promised. That gardens within your own kingdom would put to shame what you saw here. 

The only consolation you found were the glimpses you were able to catch of the ocean that slumbered nearby the castle. How their crashing waves soothed your soul as you took in breath after breath of the salty sea breeze - an old and constant comfort of yours that always brought your mind and heart ease as you partook in it.

“Do you like the water?” Kirishima asked, watching as you slowly opened your eyes to blink up at him.

You hadn’t even realized you closed them, averting your gaze away from him in slight embarrassment as you nodded your head; feeling heat rush to your face, flushing your cheeks.

“What about it do you like?” He prodded gently, wanting to hear your sweet and soft voice speak to him.

“It reminds me of my childhood.” You muttered, fingers twiddling nervously as they rested against his arm; eyes looking anywhere but him.

“How so? If you do not mind answering.” 

“Well it, um - ” You gently cleared your throat, the short amount of time of disuse had a stronger effect on you than you realized. “You see, though I was named because my parents thought I was a blessing from God, I had more than my fair share of struggles. A sickly child I was, bedridden most days. My family did all they could to try and help heal whatever ailment I came under. 

My father came up with a possible solution; a castle estate here in the Eastern land. It is nearby actually, a short boat ride from this harbor. I spent a lot of my childhood here, adolescents too, and it helped, oh gods did it help. When I was here I felt like I could breathe again, could move again, and enjoy life again. I suppose my reaction to the water’s breeze was more involuntary than anything; like greeting an old friend.”

You sighed, enjoying the salty breeze within your lungs once more before shyly looking up at your taller companion; his usual gentle gaze and smile made a similar one grace your lips.

“Though I suppose it sounds a little silly” You mumbled, your bashfulness getting the better of you as realized all that you said.

“Not silly at all,” Kirishima reassured, a hand coming down to rest atop of yours; engulfing it easily and passing along its warmth “I rather like when you ramble on about all your adventures. I think them, and you, are rather fascinating.”

“Y-you do?” You blinked up at him, making his smile widen.

“Yes, I do. If you would please indulge me further, I would love to hear more about your previous times here.”

“W-well, I would be happy to.” 

Focusing your gaze ahead you took a shaky breath before beginning again, telling stories about your first few times at the castle by the sea; how you had to adjust to the new climate, and of course avoid the water at all cost - you never did learn to swim even though you spent so much time by the shore. You recalled stories of boat rides to see the isles, of fishermen and their grand tales of how they survived the harshness of the sea, and of visitors that would come to see you and join in on your fun.

“The Princess of Cashmerask actually spent nearly a year with me here.”

“Really!?” Kirishima exclaimed, watching you closely as he hung onto every word you uttered, with a smile that widened with every story that passed your lips “For what reason?”

“Her head of course. She would be able to tell you much better what her condition is, for at times I am unclear about it. However what I do know is that she had it her whole life, and it plagued her worse than ever before, or since, when we were fifteen years old. My father offered her father a retreat here to see if it would help.

We spent that year together, slowly getting better. It was actually how we became so close, for we only had each other for company. We were practically forced to become friends. Of course, we did have our royal advisors - Lord Tamaki and Tomura - visit us on occasion. But that was it; not even our Head Knights could come, they were too focused on training. And of course, once Keigo focuses on something it is impossible for him to stray from it.”

“Ah yes, Lord Keigo…” Kirishima muttered, causing your ramble to halt as you look back up at him.

“Yes, what about him?”

“Well, I… noticed your little altercation earlier, while you were dancing.” Kirishima came to rest the casual pace he had begun, fully looking at you with earnest eyes “And I could not help but think it had something to do with me. Perhaps my conversation with your friend had caused a small rift between you two. Whatever it may be, I wish to sincerely apologize for it.” 

“Nothing to apologize for, Lord Kirishima -” 

“Please, while we are alone, call me Ejirou.” He whispered out, eyes closing when he heard you test his name on your tongue.

“Again, nothing to apologize for. Lord Keigo is a passionate man, always quick to jump from feeling to feeling; with jealousy being the worst contender for him. I certainly will not blame you, nor my closest friend, over something so trivial as that.”

You watched him sigh his relief, all the tension draining from his rigid shoulders and back, as he smiled down at you. Starting back up the peaceful jaunt you were having in the gardens, taking care to walk exceptionally slower over a stone bridge; allowing you the time to enjoy the beautiful pond it sat above.  

After a pace or two within the newfound silence, you could no longer quell the curiosity in your heart; allowing yourself to take advantage of the conversational door the man beside you had opened.

“May I ask what you two were speaking of?” You questioned, eyes still staring down at the crystalline waters.

“Speaking? Who?” Kirishima shook his head, confusion of your question clearly catching him off guard.

“The Princess and you,” you clarified “ I am merely asking out of curiosity. Though I could not hear over all those people, I was still able to see. And I could tell you were speaking about me simply by the way you both constantly gazed in my direction. So I ask, what was it?”

You watched him pause, the words that he wanted to say stuck on his tongue, as he tried to formulate a proper response. You couldn’t help but smile coyly to yourself as you saw the tips of his ears turn as bright of crimson as his hair; you finally got him into a position where he was bashful for once as you waited patiently.

“I cannot lie to you,” He finally muttered out, “especially not after you have been so honest with me.”

He gently removed your arm from his; unable to quell the nervousness he felt as he started to play with the nailbeds on his hands. It was clear to you he was worried that what he may utter next would disgust you, would possibly make you cross with him. And being the gentleman he always was, he allowed you to be able to get away from him if you so chose. 

You could not lie; it only made the curiosity within you burn even brighter; to have your heart beat faster and faster and you hung so tightly to the still air - awaiting for his next utterance of words.

“Her highness, your friend, we bumped into each other and started a conversation as one would naturally do. It was polite enough at first, but as it progressed more and more drink got involved… and well, it loosened our tongues.” He made a gesture with his hands, a shrug to accompany it, subconsciously trying to prove to you that it was a harmless course of action.

Which you knew, you could not be able to count the number of times you were in a similar situation; that the conversations with your friend would turn more risque as the night progressed, as your throats were continuously quenched with whatever ale was nearby.

“It turned scandalous, didn’t it?” You replied, your tone as mirthful as your smile as you gaze up at him.

“Y-yes, yes it did.” He gave a breathless chuckle and you could see some of the tension release from his shoulders as he held your gaze for a moment, before bashful looking away again.

“So, tell me! What was it?” You giggled, your body moving slightly to get back into his line of sight - a tactic to try and get him to continue, which worked.

“Dragons are known to hoard.” Kirishima stated a silent laugh raised his chest as he watched you crook a brow “That was what the topic turned into.”

“And….?”

“Well it started simple enough, she inquired about what kind of dragon hoards what. And truly there is no set dragon to a set hoard; it is all based on an individual’s wants and desires. She then asked of mine, what I would hoard.”

“And what did you say?” Your tone had gone down to a whisper, almost mimicking his as you gazed expectantly at him.

“I jokingly replied that I wished to hoard beautiful women, to try and make her laugh. But she ended up calling my bluff, telling me that there was only one beautiful woman I wished to hoard as she gazed out at the crowd.” His eyes finally met yours again, his tone barely above a whisper, “And when I followed her gaze, it landed on you.”

Honesty was filled within his gaze, one you could not deny nor claim that he was simply making jest at your expense. Nor could you deny there was something else held within his eyes, something dark that made your stomach flip in anticipation.

It was at this point that you realized how secluded you currently were. How alone you had both found yourselves deep within the palace gardens. How not a soul was nearby to hear your conversations, or to accidentally stumble upon you. How tall, and almost opposing he seemed to be, as he now loomed over you.

And it surprised you how unafraid you were.

“W-well, she does have a habit of just saying things to get a reaction out of people.” You stammered, taking a step back as his intense stare and presence made you feel timid “I-I am sure that this was -”

“It wasn’t.” Kirishima declared, closing the distance one again - effectively trapping you against a well-trimmed wall of shrubbery. “She somehow knew my desire for you, somehow could see it as plainly as day, and that is why she called my bluff.” 

‘And made this ploy.’ you whispered in your own mind, your own tongue feeling like sand as it stayed heavy within your mouth; not being able to utter a word as his arms came to rest on either side of your head. Caging you, and forcing you to look at his honest and passionate gaze.

“And I cannot help but think,” His voice barely a murmur but it rang loudly in your head “that perhaps I am right in my assumptions that you feel the same.”

His head lowered, nose brushing against yours, as his eyes scanned your face for any form of discomfort; for any sign you may give to have him stop. But how could you? How could you tell him to back away, to allow you to scamper off when this was all you ever wanted? 

Ever since you were a little girl you read of romances in stories and poems and all you wished for was to have a grand romance like the ones written in ink. To have a man tell you he wanted you. And now here you were with the one man who had been the catalyst of all your daydreaming since you met him, been the focus of your affections and fondness - no matter how frustrating - for months now.

How could you turn him away?

Despite the rapid beating of your heart, the nervousness that bedded itself deep within your soul and caused your breath and being to falter; the timidness within you, that has always been a part of your and claimed your demeanor, made your tongue lead and left you speechless. But despite it all, you still found yourself brave enough to look in his eyes, to ignore their intensity, unable to bring yourself to break it.

“Can I…” His whisper tickled your skin, as his lips barely brushed your own “Can I have the chance to make true of my claims? To hoard you away?”

You finally broke his gaze, for a moment, unable to help yourself to look at the lips you wanted to have pressed against yours, to have your passion known to him. Once you did, he did not hesitate to act on your silent request; his lips finally collided with yours in a kiss that set your body aflame, allowing your eyes to finally close and indulge in the fervid kiss.

His lips felt almost chapped as they continued to push against yours languidly. You could only assume the unhurried motions were an attempt to keep you against him, to not be scared off by his passion. You felt his hands delicately cup the sides of your face, gently his thumbs caressed your cheekbones in a soothing manner; sweet and calming, a far cry from how yours balled so tightly to the fabric of his collar that your knuckles were turning white.

You wanted him closer, wanted to feel all he had to offer; and though you appreciated he was being a gentleman, right now you didn’t want one. Right now, you simply wanted the beast you knew that lurked beneath the surface.

His lips pressed harder against yours, fueled by your arms that wound their way around his neck; fingers nestling within his thick crimson hair. His gentle hold of your face turned a little rough as he tilted your head up to better meet his kiss; rendering you more under his control - not that you minded in the slightest.

Your lungs were burning, begging for air that you refused to give, too enraptured by your kiss with him. Perhaps you were worried that if you were to part first it would be a sign to Kirishima that you wanted to end the ardent embrace; something furthest from the truth. You ignored the pain, focused on your fevered kisses, waiting for him to break first.

After a moment, though it felt more like an eternity, he did; gently holding your face away from his as he allowed you both to catch your breath. You could feel the warmth of his panting against your lips; you wanted to lunge forward to kiss him again but his hold made it impossible to do so.

“Please, don’t stop.” You whispered, hand tugging his hair gently to showcase your urgency “I want more, please don’t stop now Eijirou.”

“We can’t, my princess, not here.” He whispered back in kind, nose nudging gently against your own “This is no place for a woman, such as yourself, to be taken and defiled here.”

“Who says I am being defiled?” You countered, “To be defiled means I would not want this, and that is furthest from the truth. And besides, look around. No one can stumble upon us here in this labyrinth of flora, not unless we hear it first.”

You watched as his head ducked away, clearly debating between your words - your wants and needs - and propriety; an act he held most highly in his esteem. His hold on you slackened, allowing you to tip up and place a gentle kiss upon his lips.

“Please, Eijirou. I want nothing more at this moment than you. Allow me to indulge in you, and you the same.”

Your pleading words swirled in Kirishima’s mind, you could see for yourself the conflict he was battling by the way his eyes bore into yours. The way they swirled; the way the bright crimson of good within him tried to overtake the blackened lust that was overtaking it. The battle was won when his eyes turned dark and he attacked your lips once more, with a small growl of frustration.

You feel like you’re suffocating once more, but like then you could not bring yourself to care. Your hands took hold of his face, pulling him closer as you pleased, as you took his place in dominating the kiss. You could tell Kirishima did not mind, as you could feel his hands wander. Gently they caress your skin, pinching at your hips, and groping at the mounds on your chest.

You mewled at the new sensations, never before had a hand so large and warm touched you in such a way; it was euphoric and all-consuming as you tried to stay afloat in it all. His tongue entered your mouth when you mewled once more. The dominant caressing he did against your tongue added to the overwhelming euphoria you are experiencing.

You tugged at his hair, unable to stop yourself from ending this kiss, and cried out when he groped your chest harder; pinching at your now perked buds. Your departure from the kiss did not deter Kirishima, nor stop him from continuing his lust-filled actions, as he simply started trailing his lips and kisses down your neck and chest. Tugging the front of your bodice down to expose you to the cool night’s air.

“By the gods, you are so beautiful.” He pants out between his tugging on your dress and the soft kisses he litters along your collar bone “No fairer a maiden…”

Before you could counter, to muster the words that would tell him otherwise or shield away his view, he began his attack on your chest. The nipping of his sharp teeth against your delicate, sensitive skin, caused you to cry out almost painfully at the new sensations but the way you rubbed your thighs together and clung to his hair was proof you enjoyed his deliciously rough treatment.

You begged for more, loudly through the open air, trying desperately to cling to him; to feel him closer to you, not wanting him to disappear and end this moment of sin. And Kirishima was more than willing to oblige your sinful request, for he could not lie and say images of you like this did not plague his dreams. And he would dare not deny himself the one chance he may have to have all of you like this; to consume you in the beastly manner he dreamed.

He hastily pulled at your skirts, pulling them up as he lowered himself to the ground; crouching as he kissed at the newly exposed skin of your stomach, too focused on your soft skin to care about how the dirt was ruining the knees of his trousers.

“Be a good girl for me,” He whispered against your hip, hands holding the expensive fabric against your waist “And keep your skirts here, they will be in the way.”

You nod your head, hands coming down to replace his to hold your skirts in place; your breathing faltered when you look down at him, seeing just how close he was to your more private and sensitive area. Your voice hitched, no words being able to form as he gently took hold of your leg, hand gently caressing your thigh, as he placed it on his shoulder. The other leg followed, and the lack of balance startled a squeak out of you as you leaned back against the flora behind you.

“P-put one down!” You asked, tone still wavering with the uncertainty of your predicament “I’m going to fall!”

“You will not fall, I wouldn’t let that happen.” You felt his chuckle against your inner thigh, the grazing of his lips made you feel dizzy, “As you know, dragon borns are strong, able to lift the heaviest of trees with ease. And you….” 

You felt his lips place small kisses up your inner thigh; slowly and deliberately. Your muscles jumped, involuntarily, as he made his way up, further and further, until he reached your panties. There he placed a lingering kiss in the center, where a small patch of wetness formed, before looking up at you “Are the furthest thing from being heavy.”

Kirishima gave you no chance to reply, or even think of a retort before he hooked your panties to the side and gave a similar lingering kiss to your bare cunt before he trailed his tongue up the entirety of your folds; tongue flicking delicately before departing. The deep moan he gave made blood rush to your face and ears, legs instinctively knowing to wrap around his shoulders to keep him securely there.

He repeats the motion, over and over, not relenting or allowing you another chance of reprieve once he got a taste of you. His tongue licked its way up and down, sometimes slowly to allow you to feel every groove that was on the muscle, to tease you and make you whimper for more. Other times quickly, being so enraptured by your taste that he could not stop himself from eagerly lapping at the juices that wept out of you; moaning in delight.

It was that moaning, the vibrations it sent right through to your soul, as you tried your best to hold on; to the skirts around your waist and to the mortal plane as you slowly ascended towards a heavenly release. Crying out his name, and begging him to keep going. 

His words were sinful too, as they were whispered against your leaking cunt. Telling you things that would make you whine, as you would look away.

“Ah, ah, keep your eyes on me. Or else I’ll stop.” He would coo, tongue flicking at your clit swiftly, it always took you great effort to follow his instruction but the reward was always so sweet “There’s a good girl, so so good for me. You want me to keep eating this pretty pussy, don’t you?”

He wouldn’t continue until you said yes, a task made difficult by how brainless you felt, how overcome by desire and need he made you feel. But once you did, once you whimpered out a pitiful ‘yes’, he would reward you by sucking gently at your bundle of nerves. You could feel the pierce of his nails in your hips as he held you exactly how you wanted, your grip tightening whenever you tried to squirm away from his assault.

You would be embarrassed, especially at the position you were in with your skirts falling haphazardly around you and the man crouching on the ground between your legs; the slurping sounds accompanied by both your moans would give a passerby no doubt of what salacious acts were unfolding. But you couldn’t even bring yourself into the realm of care or reason, of decorum on propriety, not with the magic he was inflicting upon you.

He was ravenous, that was the only way you could describe it. Ravenous to eat you whole and hear you cry out his name. And you felt yourself being hurdled towards euphoria you had never known before, one that was powerful and made you shudder in fear and delight of what may come.

Your powerful release comes far sooner than you thought. 

Kirishima forced his tongue into your twitching hole, slowly pumping into you and groaning a the tightness he felt; unable to help himself from pulling you closer, compromising the precarious potion you were in when he felt you clamp down on him. He knew you were close, that you were touching the edges of heaven, and he wanted you to experience it. 

“Come on, that’s it, princess, let go. Let go for me, want to see you when you cum, come on” His words were muffled, but you could clearly hear him, as his thumb hastily circled your clit.

It was what sent you over the edge, allowing your back to arch and your eyes to shut as you tried to withstand the waves of pleasure that seared through you. Your mind and body seemed to shatter as your vision behind your eyes blurred white as you tensed in his hold.

“Yeah, that’s it. Use my face, good girl.” Kirishima groaned, though you could barely hear him as you rode the waves of your high, lapping at your release like a man starved; he only stopped when he heard your whines and felt your hips try to move away from him; too overstimulated and wanting a moment of reprieve.

He allowed you just that; gently placing your panties back and slowly uncrossing your legs from around his back, to gingerly place them on the ground below you. Being observant of how your legs wobbled, keeping hold of you until they stood more strongly on their own; allowing him to slowly stand once more and granting your skirts the freedom to descend gracefully around your frame once more.

He took the red pocket square that sat so neatly in his jacket to clean his now soiled face, taking his own moment to catch his breath and come back to reality, before placing it in his coat pocket. He delicately took your arms, with a smile, and looped them back around his own; tucking you into his side like before. 

“Think we’ve been gone long enough, we should get back before people get suspicious.” He whispered, slowly guiding you back the way you came, as you hum contently.

“Yes, I think my friend wants to rid herself of Prince Monoma by now.” You giggle, still a little breathless from your exhausting little tryst “Perhaps we’ll have another moment like this soon.”

“Soon? Do you really think that we are going back to the party? That what we did was all for tonight?” Kirishima asked, his tone devious as he smiled down at you; his sharp teeth giving the illusion of danger.

“I-I am not sure…?” You mumbled out, shrinking a little at his piercing and dark gaze; you could not help but feel like prey stuck in a trap. “We’re not?”

“No, my pretty bird, you asked me to ravage you; pleaded with me to do so. And I intended to make true of my word.”

may our fates cross again

#just gonna #just gonna leave this here #been awhile seen i posted i know #but what can ya do? #anyway please let me know if you like it #cause i will be tempted to post more if there is an interest #anyway away I go #kirishima eijirou #mha kirishima eijirou #bnha kirishima eijirou #mha kirishima #bnha kirishima #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #kirishima smut #kirishima eijirou smut #bnha smut #mha smut #tw illness #tw chronic illness

[valentinedaughtler]

Tainted Opal (Part 9)

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

T/Ws: violence, romantic feelings, blood, mild spice scenes sometimes, fem!reader and she/her pronouns, sexual abuse/trauma (not explicit)

Synopsis: You truely recall the time you and Kaz crossed paths as young teenagers. How you fled from your pirate ship into the dark streets of Ketterdam, only to find a scoundrel to scar.

REQUESTS: OPEN✅

____________________________________________

9 - His Eyes of Hatred

"We met before, haven't we?" I try to keep my voice calm, but the tone was desperate; a consuming curiosity brewing in the cauldron of my mind. It began to bubble over as the existence of silence grew. The sliver of sunlight left in the day cast a long shadow across Kaz, exaggerating the sharp parts of his face; the dark lines left from a life in the Barrel. It is a constant reminder of who he is and what he will always be. The Bastard of The Barrel.

"Life isn't fate driven, Y/n," Kaz finally mutters while tapping the metallic crow head of his cane with a long, gloved finger. My eyebrows crease in annoyance, I'm not going to get a direct answer out of him. I sigh softly and lean against a barren tree. The sharp bark still pierces my skin through the thick jacket wrapped around me; Kaz's jacket. A blanket of heavy silence draped over us as the moon became the only source of light. I close my eyes and attempt to sift through the old, painful memories from my arrival into Ketterdam.

✶ ♧ ✶

The thick smoke of the endless line of boats had filled my lungs. I surepressed coughs that tried to escape my cracked lips. The smoke and fog masked my clumsy escape off of the wooden ship; off of home. I looked back for longer than I should have, soaking in the remnants of my childhood.

I trudged past bellowing merchants at makeshift stands filled with stealable goods and promising services. The voices of the bustling streets meshed together into a white noise more crackly than the sea I was used to, and diverse smells wafted through the air; food, dirt, death.

My stomach growled like a starved beast, my muscles felt strained and tight. My hungry gaze had landed on a man selling fresh fruits and breads; a strange assortment, but an appetizing one. He was younger, but old enough to have to avoid taxes illegally. His dark skin and curly hair contrasted pleasantly with his orange button up. He had been calling out to possible customers; the walking wallets that roamed the streets. I shifted my demeanor and softened my expression; an attempt to look sweet and desperate. Do what your mother taught you, I had told myself. I took long, elegant strides toward the stand, clasping my hands together as he looked at me. A glint of intrigue sparkled in his deep, dark eyes as he rested his elbows on the wooden counter. It was covered in apples and grapes, as well as warm baked goods.

I greeted him with an innocent smile as he spoke to me, "Ah, what can I do for ya' miss? Maybe a pear, a biscuit... a date?" He had winked and flashed me a dimpled smile. I giggled softly and batted my eyelashes. It felt so embarrassing— so degrading at the time.

"Well, maybe a loaf of bread and an apple?" I requested with my honeydew voice, which poured into his ears with a pleasurable vibration. He nodded with another wink and placed both into a cloth bag. I searched in my pockets, calm at first, but then frantic, a false panic spreading across my face. "My wallet! Oh no, I think someone stole my wallet," my lip quivered as I looked at the shop man with desperation. His expression was unfazed, he even huffed with a deep chuckle.

"You're not from here, are ya', little miss?" He rested his soft-edged face in his hands, amused with how naive I seemed. I had blinked a few times, cocking my head in confusion. He sighed as tears began to pool in my eyes, wiping them away with a calloused finger. "I'll give em' to ya' for free, but next time you come around, take me out for a nice meal," he smirked and extended his hand towards me. I accepted the bag of finessed foods from his outstretched palm, thanking him excessively.

I had whisked my way through the tight crowds until the outdoor markets became scarce. The streets were darker now, oiled lamp light more haphazard the further I walked. The way people took up space was different here. Before, in the markets, pedestrians had grand attires, with even grander ambitions. The cramped space was borrowed by anyone who took it, and the attempt was abundant.

But here, it contrasted immaculately. Those who roamed visibly tried to take up as little space as possible; small slivers of rotting life in the decaying world around them. Most people hadn't wandered openly, instead choosing to slip through the cracks of the city.

These seemed to be the rules of those who lived here, except for a handful of daring strangers I saw lingering outside a packed bar, a few chuckling loudly, drunkenly swaying with the leaning buildings. The rambunctious group had begun to make their way down the street, following a tall man with a cane that clacked against the cobblestone roads. He looked old, or maybe just worn, from his intense angularity and sharpened points. Though, further inspection had proved otherwise, showing the man's— er, boy's- cheeks puffed slightly on his angled face and hard expression. His soft jaw had seemed to be the only way to know he was young. He had actually appeared to be my age.

As the gang passed me with animated motions, I gave a quick wink to one that peered at me for far too long. My eyes were welcoming; entrancing. They were an enticing trap; a siren song that lured in those who thought too little about importances and too much about lust. The man whistled at me and even stopped, turning in my direction. I scanned him for any riches I'd need for future purchases or predicaments. A pocket watch had caught my eye. It dripped out from his chest pocket by a chain, which adorned his tailored suit that had been mishandled from the bar.

His mates had stopped, one making a groan of frustration. "You cannot hit on every pretty gal who acknowledges ya', Big B," a man slurred with a drunken scowl. The broad man, apparently Big B, strutted his way to me, towering over my body with a sly grin.

"You alone in the Barrel?" His words slipped on the sharp constants and bubbled in his deep voice. The Barrel? I remember being confused by that statement. I looked away bashfully for a moment before offering him batting eyes and a small smile. He took both with haste, his gaze narrowing as I had stepped closer to him. Big B's  friends behind him protested, a few stumbling towards him to drag him away. Shit, time for the emergency plan B, I had thought to myself, anxious to snag him watch and sell it to the nearest pawn shop for much too little.

I tripped over the uneven cobbles in the road as I shrunk the space between Big B and I, my hands falling in front of my tipping body onto his chest, right by his pocket.

"I am so sorry, sir, really, I didn't mean to-," my nervous pleas and apologies were stopped shortly by a deep, throaty laugh from the muscular man.

"Doll, no worries at all," he said. I had clutched my hands over my chest, the golden watch trapped between my palms. Shortly after, a few dirtied hands grabbed the thick arms of Big B before dragging him away from where I stood. I made a quick escape to a nearby alley as the men squabbled with one another. I slipped the watch into my pocket as I heard the enraged yells of Big B; he hadn't been able to find his watch for some reason. The roars faded and meshed with the voices of Ketterdam as I climbed my way up to the rooftops of the city.

The night had ticked away on the watched I clutched, my eyes filled with greed and satisfaction with every tik and tok it made. I had found myself my very own sliver of Ketterdam to hide in, an indent of a building that was covered with a dirtied sheet and stacked crates of spoiled produce.

My dreams of freedom and riches were halted by the familiar sound of a cane hitting cobblestone, followed by an unfamiliar noise of a cane hitting me in the arm, not hard enough to break it, but enough to leave a large bruise soon; a warning. I had yelped and contorted my body around the cloth roof of my shelter, lunging at the shadow of a figure; a diversion, as my father taught me, an eye catcher, as my mother had said. The attacker smacked me in the stomach with force, their cane causing my ribs to vibrate like a xylophone. I ignored the intense throbbing pain— another trick I had learned on the boat- as I rolled part of the sheet up. With a few flicks of my wrists, the wrung cloth was tightly around the neck of my current opponent. I squeezed tighter as I stared at them.

Before me had stood a reddening face— suffocation has that affect on people- of the sharp, dark boy from earlier. The ring leader of his own gritty circus. He once again used his cane to hit me in the leg, but I used this falling opportunity I had felt to smack my forehead into his. This along with the chokehold I had him in caused the boy to fall back, his well-groomed, dark hair covering his eyes a bit. He was strangely beautiful now that I had noticed it, in an intense sort of way.

Time was ticking away as I observed him, so I shoved him into the alley wall, where an eroded brick cut his lower lip. I ran with haste into the slick street as rain began to pour down in large globs. My hair had stuck to my skin, along with my wet clothes, where the gold watch was pocketed.

✶ ♧ ✶

My chilly hands fumble through my pants pockets, finding the signature time-teller of mine; a—now quite scratched- good pocket watch that hung from a thin chain. I held it in my palms, the sharp cold nipping at my finger tips. Kaz's eyes were glued on the small clock, his lower lip twitching. I toss it to him, and he unsurprisingly catches it with a single gloved hand.

"Maybe there is some fate," I finally melted the silence with a warm voice. I chuckle softly, looking at Kaz, his round cheeks and soft jaw were long gone, and he seemed to have become sharper and harder over the two years that past, the Barrel chipping away at his humanity with greediness to destroy a boy. His lower lip had a scar that ran down the center, an immortal reminder of the time a former pirate girl got a leg up on Kaz Brekker, no one got a let up on Kaz Brekker.

"Or maybe Ketterdam is too small for those with such high ambition," the oddly attractive boy responds with a rasp.

"I think that may be the nicest thing you've ever said to me," I reply with a light laugh. Kaz doesn't  say anything, but he met my gaze with eyes that weren't completely filled with hatred.

________________

Word Count: 1889

________________

I took a quick break from writing to allow my creative drive to return, thought it's better to write better than write more.

-Valentine

#inej ghafa #shadow and bone #six of crows #fanfic #jesper fahey #kaz brekker #nina zenik #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x you #soc kaz #soc inej #soc #matthias helvar #wylan van eck #fanfiction #seductress #pirates #backstory #ketterdam

[dreamties]

dreams - amanda young x gn! reader

a/n- no triggers !!! basically just like. fluff and awkward mutual crushes. also written in like an hour with no edits so um !!!! plz enjoy this completely unplanned piece <33333

mentions of adam !!! word count: 823

amanda wakes in a startled mess, her anxiety sweat pooling at the dips in her skin and staining her shirt and sheets. she feels unbearably hot and claustrophobic.

she knows that unless she's running a fever (which she knows this feeling and it's not the traditional sick- it's a sickness in her head), there is no possible way for her to be warm right now. her apartment is old and she gets a discount on rent from how decrepit most amenities are.

so it's mid-october and her heater is busted- but she still feels hot and sick amidst the frigid air.

she heaves herself off the bed, leaving the sheets sticking to her skin behind. she sorts through a pile of semi-clean clothes. amanda would like to get a kickstart on her day- she knows, at this rate, she won't be able to fall asleep again.

she rinses her hair in the kitchen sink. spends a minute scrubbing at the subtly indented scars on her cheek.

she dresses in a hurry, though she has no place to go, no place urgent at least.

amanda walks six blocks to her favorite cafe, huddled in a jacket that no longer zips up.

no respectable shop should be open this early. or this late. from past experiences she knows it will be open though. the only shop aside from 24-hour markets and the occasional gas station open at this hour, in this neighborhood.

an annoying, zingy bell sounds as she enters and sits down at her favorite booth. the person working, y/n, has never bothered her about ordering something. they always let her watch or idly write on napkins or draw on her skin- anything to keep her from going back to her apartment.

y/n is not behind the counter right now. which is unusual. they usually do- well, amanda's not actually sure what they do. she hasn't been stalking them, after all, just observing. she has yet to figure out all the nitty gritty details of their job.

she recognizes, with a delighted and gentle smile, that they're decorating the interior for autumn. paper leaves strung together. doodles on the chalkboard menu. cutouts of pumpkins placed throughout the display boxes.

they hum to themselves as they work. amanda finds it soothing. she always does. because y/n always seems so endearingly lost in their own bubble- amanda feels something that sounds like envy but feels much softer.

she tracks her eyes with their movements, lulling her into a calm.

amanda does not mean to fall asleep. she is exhausted and the cafe is so warm and light compared to her residence. it's too easy when she does.

she doesn't fight back like she thinks she will. she recognizes she's dozing off too late for her mind to react.

it's the season-appropriate interior. the humming. a distinct beep from someone brewing coffee. increased foot traffic through the entryway. the dimmed yellow-y lights. the scent of perfectly spiced chai.

a clink of a ceramic mug on the tabletop stirs her. she doesn't feel ill this time, as she allows her body time to adjust before moving. before getting out of bed. she absently scratches the side of her neck.

"oh, geez," comes a whisper. "i didn't wake you, did i?"

amanda's eyes widen. she sits up more professionally, keeping her hands clasped in her lap.

"no," she replies. "it's fine."

y/n smiles at her. sparks flicker in amanda's heart- their expression feeling so personal and directional. they're not simply smiling; they are smiling at her. she feels close to melting- better than melting.

"good, good. i hope you like your drink, amanda."

they freeze. readjust their apron and looks at her concerned, embarrassed, too.

"it, um- it is amanda, right?"

she nods her head. the scene unfolding feeling so dreamlike. it's intoxicating.

"i- i see you in here all the time. i got your name from my coworker. that sounds-" they fluster. "his name is adam."

amanda lets herself react as y/n reacts. she chuckles. "yeah. he's- it's complicated."

they laugh. "oh, god, i bet! what isn't complicated with him?"

they're leaning against the headrest on the side of the booth opposite to her. it feels like friends reuniting. it's more than reconnection, whatever she is actually experiencing.

it's magical, though.

"oh, um-" they tap at their nametag, letters drawn with their own expertise. "y/n. i'm y/n. wait- shit, you've already known that."

amanda finds their humble fumbling endearing.

(y/n wants to say- "it's not every day i get to chat with my prettiest customer"- they feel too shy to even think of forming the letters in their mouth)

(amanda wants to tell them they have the sweetest voice she's ever heard. she thinks that might be overbearing and acts against her desires)

"we should- when you come back again, you should say hi to me before it gets busy."

#amanda young x reader #amanda young saw #saw franchise #amanda young x y/n #flufftober #but like... i just write fluff not following any prompts and prolly wont even write more this month lol #slashers x reader #slashers x y/n #slashers x you #amanda young x you #reblogs are appreciated #reblogs are encouraged

[adminbryantsaki]

Alone at night

Yandere! Shouta Aizawa x Reader.

(I do not own Shouta Aizawa/ Eraserhead. He belongs to Horikoshi Kohei. If this isn’t your cup of tea, blend of spices, or brew of coffee, Move on. Reader discretion is advised. If you see someone with Yandere tendencies in real life, call the police immediately as it’s a giant red flag and can be dangerous)

TW: Yandere situation, stalking, Walking alone at night, mention of injury/murd3r

WC: 1,400

You wrapped up your task on your laptop before shutting it down and sliding the device into your backpack.  You slung the pack over your shoulder and headed to clock out for the day and head home. you bumped into your co-worker before making it to the door and you apologized for being so clumsy and headed out the door, as you were walking through the streets to get to the bus stop that would take you home, you had the uncomfortable feeling that someone was following you so you turned to see if there was anyone suspicious following you to the bus terminal.

You noticed a strange-looking man wearing a dark hoodie and pants, with his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, but he was following you, keeping his distance from you, but keeping track of you. You took a seat at the bus terminal, waiting for your bus to arrive, hoping that you would lose the strange man following you, thinking that he would get on a different bus.

Oh, you were you wrong when the bus arrived that would take you home, the strange man boarded only a few people after you did and sat down a few seats behind you. You were tense and tried to distract yourself by looking out the window to watch the buildings and other cars pass by. You noticed the buss approaching your neighborhood and you pulled a string to notify the driver that you wanted to stop, you chose to get off a stop that was only a little longer of a walk to your house but you wanted to try and evade your stalker. You got off and noticed the man get off as well and begin to follow you. You took detours to try and lose the man but you couldn’t shake him. You thought of going into a nearby bar and asking for help but you were tired and decided to go home and call the police incase anything worse happened.

Upon entering your home, you immediately locked the door and went to your room to change out of your work clothes as you thought back to your observations to the man who was following you. There seemed to be something familiar about him, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Sending those thoughts out of your mind, you changed into your pjs, not aware of the window that had been opened in your absence. You settled on your couch with a bottle of your favorite fizzy drink and turned on the Tv to a movie that you decided to unwind to.

Some time passed and you heard something knock over in another room, making you stand up and arm yourself with the nearest blunt object and your phone which you quickly dialed the authorities. You walked slowly and quietly to the part of your house where you heard the noise come from and you peeked into the room. The strange man who had been stalking you earlier was in the room, searching for you. You had stayed quiet until someone on the phone responded asking if you were there. This alerted the man and he went to the door and found you, frozen in fear, holding your phone. He smiled and pulled you close.

“There you are. I’ve been waiting for this moment forever, Y/n.” He spoke and pulled you into the living room and had you sit back down in your couch. “Who are you? Why are you here? What do you want with me?” You asked as you watched him walk in front of you, pull a chair over, and sit in front of you. He looked up at you and you finally got a good look at his face.  He was pale, having dark stubble lining his jawline, dark eyes that looked exhausted and rimmed by dark circles that told you that he lacked sleep. He also had shoulder-length wavy black hair that framed his face and two scars, one that was in a crescent shape under his right eye and a vertical scar that intersected with the horizontal scar. “Do you not recognize me, Y/n? We went to high school together and we were in the same class.” He spoke, leaning forward slightly in desperation to get you to try and remember him. You thought for a moment, thinking back to your years in high school and trying to remember someone that looked like him. Coming up with nothing, you shook your head no in response to the man in front of you. “You must remember me. Do you not remember the letters and flowers left in your locker? Or finding an item that you had misplaced one day and magically turned up the next? That was me. I left those things for you there. I made sure you were paid attention to and cared for. I even followed you when you graduated and followed you into your field of work so I could still be around you. Do you not understand this, Y/n?” He asked.

You remembered the love letters and flowers found in your locker or at your desk… sometimes even in the locker room after gym class. You remembered getting your job and a week or two later, seeing that this man in front of you arrived at your same job, that’s when more of the notes and small presents containing your favorite treat or snack appearing at your desk. Your eyes widened and you backed away from him, scared of what he might do next. “I-I do remember you now. You stalked me on the way home from school, you left things in my locker in the bathroom after gym, you left me small presents on my desk containing creepy notes in them. Also following me to work? That’s even more creepy. You should have pursued what you wanted instead of stalking me wherever I go.” You told him and stood up from your seat but he grabbed your wrist. “Sit back down,” He growled. “You’re not going anywhere until I say it’s alright for you to leave.” He added and you sat back down and he let go of your wrist. He had gripped it hard and it hurt a little. His whole demeanor had changed. “You owe me for all the years you didn’t recognize me. You owe me a relationship that we never had… Do you remember what happened to your boyfriends about a week after you started dating them?” He asked. “They got beaten up badly with broken bones. They ended up in the hospital and were never the same again… Oh my god, was that you that beat them up?” You asked as you put a hand to your mouth.

“Yes, it was. I need to get them out of the way so I could have a clear path to you. But you still never bat an eye at me, you just picked the next person that caught your interest to date. Because you picked them is why they became my targets. They could have been spared if you only picked me, Y/n.” He said in a menacing tone. You looked at him in fear and his expression softened. “What’s wrong? Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to scare you. But I am right. You could have saved them… but you didn’t, so now you’re stuck with me. Tomorrow, we will head into work and you will say nothing referring to what has happened tonight. I’ll slowly move in with you and we will live happily. I’ll keep you safe from those who wish to harm you and I’ll help care for you with whatever you need. Understand?” He spoke. You slowly nodded and he smiled, taking your hands in his and he kissed your forehead.

“I-I never got your name, what is it?” You stuttered. “My name is Shouta. Shouta Aizawa.” He spoke.

The end?

@chaos-night @reciproburstbaby @suzuki-violin-school

#bnha #admin writes #mha #bnha aizawa #mha aizawa #mha eraserhead #yandere #yandere aizawa x reader #yandere aizawa shouta

[celestialsister0918]

Chapter 2, "Someone's Dirty Bathwater"

Jackson Lamb x fem!OC, Slow Horses

Rated 18+ for later chapters.

If you have time to show some love on AO3 or want to bookmark for later, head here! :)

Adelaide throws the rubbish in the giant bin outside of Slough House and hops into her car. That interaction was certainly something.

She does not understand at all how smelly, greasy old Jackson Lamb, King of the Fuckups, had her so horny right now. Attraction is a very mysterious thing. Perhaps she likes the challenge? Or maybe she likes the way he spoke to her. Maybe a little degradation is sexy? At any rate, she knows nothing can happen until he learns the most basic of hygiene. She wasn’t asking for him to clean up like a prince, but some Pears soap and a bit of attention under the nails might be nice. As it stood right now, he would finger her into needing a double round of antibiotics.

She has dreams about him that night. He wasn’t really doing anything in the dreams. Just repeatedly pulling his pants up over his belly and glowering at her with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He looked like a caricature in a comedy. She should have woken up laughing at the absurdity. But she actually wakes up with a damn tingling between her legs and an excitement to start her day. What the actual hell?

That morning, when Lamb appears in the Slough House office, unshaven and unshowered, he's surprised to see such a glow on her face. In fact, Lamb is surprised at the brightness all round. The office is clean. Spotless. But more importantly, it smells a lot nicer than usual. Even with him in it.

“Good morning,” Adelaide says brightly. “I decided to start at 6 instead of 8. Ho took a break from his game to let me in. Apparently he gets here and games with people overseas before everyone else reports to work.”

“Does he now?” Lamb huffs, but he’s too distracted to give that tip too much thought. He looks around at the office, which now gleams in the morning light. It was like she was trying to piss him off. "You’ve been pretty busy, I see."

“I have,” she agrees, taking steps toward her pile of belongings in the corner. “And I brought a few things for you as well.”

The thought of this woman doing something nice for him was starting to irritate him a little. "A few things? What kind of things?"

She drags a carpet bag up on the table like a fucking sunshine-bubbly Mary Poppins.

“For starters— chocolate croissants. Something tells me the way to your heart is through your stomach. Assuming you have one. A heart, that is. But if we’re going to spend a month around one another, I’m determined to at least make you pleasant.”

Lamb is stunned into silence by her generosity. No one has done anything this considerate for him in… longer than he could remember. She thinks this is the way to his heart? That it'll be some kind of chink in his armor? This girl must be crazy. Insane. But the thought of those chocolate croissants and the scent of the accompanying freshly brewed coffee has him considering how it might be possible to like her, even if just long enough to eat.

“And here we have…”

She takes items out of the bag one by one: a bar of soap, body wash labeled “blood orange and spice,” anti-dandruff clarifying shampoo, deodorant, Nivea, and some concoction called “Moroccan neroli” aftershave. She also sets out nail clippers and a file. A fucking nail file!

That girl is out of her mind - a nail file? But he’s beginning to see the effort she’s making. This girl's really thinking out of the box. This could be the best way to get to him. She is getting to him, that much was certain. "Well, well… how fucking considerate,” he mutters. That was all he could manage for the moment.

“So I won’t be able to work in the washroom today, then? Because you’ll be occupying it?” she asks pointedly.

Lamb laughs, enjoying the sparring– the sense of them working each other to their breaking point. "Oh God, I guess you won't. I guess I'll be doing my personal grooming right here. On the office table. In full view of everyone."

“They might buy tickets,” Adelaide laughs.

"I can see it already,” he drolls. “Long queues outside the office. Tipping their hats from every direction. All to see that distinguished silver fox take the most refreshing shower of his career. You'd think I was bloody Brad Pitt for the way everybody’s going to be staring at me.”

She seems pleased with herself. “I bet you’ll clean up quite nicely. Then you can take me out for a drink after work.”

“Oh? And why would I want to do that?" he demands. "This isn't a date, is it?"

She shakes her head. “Of course not. It’s a drink.”

"Oh, so there’s no expectation of anything romantic in any way whatsoever?" He stares hard, a gleam in his eye.

She looks away briefly. “I don’t get the sense that you’re the romantic type.”

"Oh, you think you've got the measure of me, do you?” he says in a surly voice. “You think that I don't know how to treat a lady?" He moves slightly closer to her, so close she can smell the hint of chocolate croissants on his breath and feel the heat of that breath hitting her skin.

She appraises him with a raised eyebrow, leaning back slightly at the waist but not actually stepping away. “I’m not sure, to be honest.”

Lamb closes the gap between them again. He’s so close now she can see grey flecks in his blue eyes. Close enough to kiss her….

Close enough to kiss her deeply and passionately, if that’s what she wants. And then he remembers... the smell. The smell of his breath, his clothes. And the fact she’s so very young. No. She can't actually like him like this. Can she?

Adelaide tightens her jaw and doesn’t breathe. She’s very attracted to him carnally, but her nose is still unfortunately fully functional. And it’s betraying her more forgiving body parts.

Lamb can tell he's got her on the hook. He's been able to read women since before he could read at all. Women tend to find him irresistible, even in the midst of his worst moments. Of course they didn’t like to show it; they preferred to banter and fight. But he knew. And this girl was no exception.

Just to prove it to her, he takes the cigarette out of his mouth, takes a last drag, and crushes it out in the ashtray next to her. And then he leans in toward her and whispers in her ear, "Let me know what time you're free tonight, and I'll remove any mystery.” Before she can say anything in response, he leans his head slightly back and smiles smugly.

“I’ll feel comfortable leaving around 5:00,” she finally replies. “I should be able to tackle a few of the other desks by then.”

“So then you'll be free at... say seven?" He's trying his damndest to sound nonchalant. 

She laughs. “You’re giving me two whole hours to go home and get dolled up for you? Do you think this is a date or something?”

"Yes," he answers flatly. "It is a date, and there's nothing you can do about it but prepare to have your wet knickers seduced right onto the floor."

She laughs out loud at this. “You’re pulling my leg.”

"I might do that later, too,” he remarks. “You can deny it all you like, but the truth is, you're already going to dress up for me, and we both know it. Even if it's only for dinner, there's still an element of courtship taking place. Or, if you prefer, seduction. And I'm telling you now, I'm going to seduce you. There's nothing you can do to stop me.”

She blinks again, biting her thumbnail in amusement. “We shall see then, won’t we? You might want to start on that bath. You only have 11 hours.”

"Oh, that's plenty of time,” Jackson assures her. “And remember, you might find that you like what you see when I'm clean. After all, you haven't experienced the unadulterated essence of Lamb yet."

Adelaide’s face feels like it might burst with the effort to hold back her giggles. “Is that something you share with women often? Your essence?”

"Women love my essence." Lamb's tone is playful, confident. He's got her hooked. "And you're no exception - you'll love it too. Once you get a taste, there won't be another guy you'd even consider. I'm going to ruin you."

Now she’s really chomping on her nail. He’s got her fascinated. It’s like he actually understands the disconnect between his appearance and the power he has over the female sex. Though she’s sure 99% of women would never admit it, and would therefore never spread their legs for him. She’s quite interested to find out just how much experience he’s actually had.

"The other men in your life will pale into insignificance,” he continues, taking a seat that nearly sends the rolling chair crashing into the wall. “They won't be able to compare to me. Once our lips meet, I'll make you crave me for the rest of your life, even when I'm not around. I'll be the one you have wet dreams about. The one you picture when you're trying to get turned on. The one whose face you imagine at your most private moments..."

She squirms and darts toward a feather duster, going to work. She simply can’t take it anymore. For one thing, she didn’t bring a change of knickers. And as he’d predicted, these were quickly becoming uncomfortable.

Lamb smiles to himself as he watches the girl squirm. She can't pretend to ignore him, even with a duster in her hand. Even now, she's pretending to clean, when they both know she's thinking about more lascivious things. The woman is a tease, but it's obvious she has a plan. She's playing hard to get.

About that time, River Cartwright pokes his head in with nervous eyes.

Lamb doesn’t even look over. He’s never surprised by the interruption of ineptitude. 

“Um…” Cartwright begins.

“What do you want, Cartwright?” Lamb still doesn’t take his eyes off the girl.

“You told me to bring your car around and wait for you. That was 30 minutes ago,” Cartwright reminds him.

Lamb looks across to Cartwright, and his demeanor suddenly changes. He goes from arrogant playboy to irritable, annoyed chief in seconds. And it's all for show. He doesn't want Cartwright thinking he's been flirting with a girl, even if he’d actually rather be flirting with a girl. "Get my car to the front. I'll be down in a minute."

Cartwright disappears, and Adelaide shakes her head with a “tsk tsk.” “So you’re out in the field today? Time’s really ticking on that bath. I bet you’ll show up at 7 tonight looking just like you do now. Only with maybe a few extra stains from lunch.”

"Oh, I'm sure the stains won't be a problem for you." His tone is smug again. He knows he's already got her under his spell. And there she is, biting her nail, again.

“As a matter of fact it will,” she snaps back. “No bath, no drink.”

"Are you telling me you'd actually turn me down if I was still dirty?” he asks incredulously. “It's not like you're the epitome of cleanliness. That nail is getting shorter by the minute, you know."

“I’m dirty from cleaning decades of muck up from this shithole,” she says with rolled eyes. “Believe me, I pretty-up quite a bit before I go out for drinks.”

He props his feet up on his desk, revealing a big toe poking through an undoubtedly putrid old sock. "So you're saying you're planning to get washed and ready tonight for your hot date?” he teases her. “That's good to know."

“You’ll take one whiff and wish you could drown in me,” she promises.

"Is that a challenge?" Lamb raises an eyebrow, as the girl is clearly trying to flirt with him now. He can practically hear her heartbeat through the air between them.

“A challenge on who will smell the best? Or a challenge not to drown in me?” she clarifies.

"Either one," Lamb grins, enjoying this. It's good to flirt again. The girl is attractive– beyond attractive. And witty enough to keep him from boredom. “I guess both."

She grins back. “River Cartwright’s waiting.”

Lamb's face hardens abruptly. "Fuck River Cartwright. He's still there?"

She laughs, aghast. “In your car, Lamb. Christ, you’re really slipping, aren’t you?”

"No I'm not,” he insists. “He's... he's..." It's hard to think clearly. The girl has thrown him off his usual game. He's finding her extremely distracting. And to have something like a bath waiting for him at the end of the day is just unbearable. This girl might be the end of him.

She's looking at me with those big innocent eyes. She's biting her lip again. And that nail is almost gnawed all the way down to the knuckle . 

She's going to make him lose focus, and it's driving him mad.

“Go to work, Lamb. I’ll see you somewhere at 7. Where are we drinking?”

"Anywhere's good. What about the Gristle?" It's a nearby pub he knows she'll like. It's dark and moody - and it has a billiard table - but he also knows it'll cost about £20 to get into the place with his stink. At least he'll probably be able to get her to pay for the first round.

She shrugs. “Sounds fine. I’ll see you then. If I recognize you, of course.”

"You might remember me as the guy with all the charisma, whom you had a long, suggestive conversation with earlier,” muses Lamb. “The guy you're almost definitely going to sleep with later."

Adelaide snorts. “You’d be so lucky.”

He winks. "Oh, I don't think it's me that'll be the lucky one. I think you might even think I'm a little bit handsome after a couple of drinks. Though you might not admit that."

She crosses her arms defiantly. “I would say I’m eager to find out how you think I look after two drinks, but you could probably tell me that right now. I’m assuming you’ve already imbibed this morning?”

He slaps the desk and stands. "You're damn right I've imbibed this morning. I drank enough to make your knees shake and your tongue curl. I'm going to need a bath just to sober up.”

“Bath— good. Work also good. Go find River.”

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don't give me any more orders or we'll forget that date altogether."

She laughs lightly. “Yes, sir.”

"Don’t suck up to me, buttercup. I've already got the date. Besides… if we’re playing that game, I think I’d fancy ‘Master’ or ‘Daddy’... anything other than Sir. You’re not one of these lame fuckups around here, so don’t refer to me like you’re one. Got it?"

She blushes a deep red at this but says nothing, simply waiting for him to go off to the field.

Lamb gives a little smirk, which makes her blush even harder. Then he looks her up and down. He enjoys the way she blushes. "I expect to see you tonight, then?" he demands.

She nods. “7. The Gristle. We’ll both clean up.”

"No need for you to clean up. I'll enjoy you either way." Lamb doesn't care how it sounds. This girl is going to get what she asks for, and then he's going to have what he wants too. There'd be no need to clean anything up, as far as he's concerned. But he's not going to say that to her face; he’ll just string her along thinking she’s won… for now.

#gary oldman #fanfiction #jackson lamb #slow horses #eventual smut #tension #banter #ao3 #ao3 fanfic

[gaoau]

Strike Back

Everyday, Properly warnings — none. word count — 975

prev.

It's their third and last year of high-school, still in the same class and still filling the same roles. The 100 of his class and the average of 90's. He remains turning in his assignments in time, while only last week she handed in a math test blank because she doesn't like drawing graphs.

They decide to share another cup of tea in a breezy afternoon. Where they usually divert their paths, Kita follows her left and to her house. Much like the first time, she forces him to wait at the table as she boils the water and soaks porcelain in flavor.

He had been surprised on his first visit, shortly after the spontaneous offer that leaped off his tongue. [Name] never cared to do anything adequately, taking all credit both when they failed or somehow succeeded. The weight of indifference vanished from her body as she carefully prepared two cups, hands gentle and fingers dancing with softness.

Tea had never tasted so powerful; his tongue could pick apart every single spice mixed in a package.

She settles across from him, white porcelain knocking twice on wood. The inevitable topic of the future pops up before his second sip. "What're yer plans after graduation?" he asks someone that doesn't know what they'll eat for dinner in a few hours.

[Name] sets her cup down. Elbow beside it, cheek in her palm. "Physics," she replies with a shrug—she always shrugs—as if it were a matter of fact. "What 'bout you?"

"I'll take over my family's rice farm."

"Sounds like somethin' Kita Shinsuke can pull off. I know I can't." She puffs her cheeks and blows out air.

"S'all 'bout doin' it properly. Everyday, properly."

"As admirable as that is, there're things I don't care enough 'bout ta do 'em properly."

"Things like what?"

"Geography, makin' friends, payin' attention during economy, bein' alive."

He brings his cup up only for it to freeze before it reaches his lips. His eyes find hers. "You don't care 'bout bein' alive?" He forgets the beverage in his hand.

"I ain't really good at it, so I stopped carin' 'bout doin' it properly. Same with the other things. Hats off to ya for bein' so diligent, though."

"Ya still properly brew tea an' properly ace yer math tests."

"Yeah, I ain't sayin' I don't care 'bout anything. I ain't good at livin', but I don't wanna die. So I play with numbers ta pass the time."

"What's livin' life properly for ya?"

"I dunno." Her shoulders lift longer than usual. "Not wastin' my time and actually doin' all the things I wanna do. Maybe, I dunno."

"I think repetition, perseverance, and diligence just feel good. That's a life properly lived."

"Don't think I could do that. I only see things through if they matter. I agree, diligence's good, but I can't go above seventy percent of myself."

"I'll take it ya'll see yer physics career through, then."

"Long as it matters to me."

"Ya should try puttin' in more than seventy."

"Ya keep doin' you, Kita—"

"You'll survive."

They finish the last bits of their teas. Mentalities unchangeable and thoughts standing on parallel; face to face, endlessly, never overlapping. They don't need to agree, they just have to talk.

Spring carried mist over the mountains, Summer followed close behind. Fall creeped by until Winter seeped in. Repetition just feels good. Spring comes back before anyone can blink to start the cycle again.

It's time to graduate and leave behind years worth of useless knowledge and unnecessary all-nighters. They hold diplomas between fingers that hooked around twin teacups. Words they shared still taste fresh on their tongues, like the first bag full of spice she ever soaked in steaming water.

Mr. No Gaps Kita Shinsuke graduated at the top of his class; Ms. Well Whatever [Surname] [Name] shrugged her way out of high-school. He did things properly and she survived.

The crows cry out their song to the sinking sun, sky a flaming red hue. An unsightly envy simmers in [Name]'s chest as she walks next to Kita for the umpteenth and last time in her life. Wasted high-school years replay in her mind and his words relentless beat down upon her.

He makes her want to live a proper life.

They cross the school gates. She finds his eyes reflecting a bright future. A lazy smile crawls onto her lips.

Orange fades into a palette of cool pastel colors. "S'most likely we won't meet again. I'll probably forget 'bout ya."

"Seems like ya still prefer bein' alone."

"S'always better to be alone than in bad company."

"Ya sayin' I'm bad company?"

"D'ya see me tryna leave this conversation?"

There are carefree notes of laughter mixing with the flapping of feathers into the horizon. There's no space for silence as they stop to face each other.

"I wanna forget my high-school years," [Name] lets her criminal thoughts billow to the Spring clouds. She swings her diploma like a fallen tree branch. "Whatever ya set out to do, do it properly. Though you don't need me to tell ya that."

"I'd say the same to ya. Bye, [Surname]."

She throws a bored wave behind an uninterested shoulder. "Goodbye, Kita." Slipping off her tongue, is a farewell building up over three years.

As the night swallows her in blue, Kita is another friend not properly made, lost to the sunset in the distance. She holds her diploma in one hand and tightens her fingers around Kita's words. Truths too bitter to drink down, but too precious to let go of.

—あごす (agosu) • 2020

#Everyday Properly #Haikyuu #Kita Shinsuke #Kita Shinsuke x Reader #Kita x Reader #Haikyuu x Reader

[softeninglooks]

i never dreamt of times like these | oihina

oihina are my favourite friendship in hq, so after seeing this lovely piece of fanart, i couldn’t stop myself from writing about them 🥹

When Shoyo slowly blinks slumber away from his eyelids, the spot on the other side of the bed still retains some of its former warmth, though the sleepy hand that he runs over it is met with the cold softness of empty bedsheets at the end of his fingertips.

A ray of early sunlight is streaming into the room, gently falling onto Shoyo’s bare freckled shoulder. He can hear the distant murmurs of the waking city, beyond the half-open windows and fluttering white curtains, and feel the gentle morning heat rising. It will be another sunny day, filled with the familiar scorching of the sand under his feet and the coolness of beers with friends in the evening.

Shoyo yawns into his pillow, lazily turning over in the few seconds of drowsy bliss that he savours before decisively jumping to his feet. A professional athlete, he no longer counts on lying in to properly delight in the benefits of a good morning - a delectable and energising breakfast, this is what he enjoys the most. Quickly pulling a cream-coloured t-shirt over his head, Shoyo stops by the bathroom before heading toward the kitchen, where a certain person may be waiting for him. The delicious wafts of coffee and sugar floating into the rest of the apartment is enough to tell him that Tooru is making breakfast.

He finds him by the hotplates, an old light blue San Juan VC t-shirt hugging the defined muscles of his supple torso, and his short brown hair slightly disheveled from the night. In his hand, a pan is happily sizzling with eggs and spices, while fresh coffee is brewing on the kitchen counter by a plate of diced fresh fruit. They bought the apartment together only a couple of months ago, but the cooking utensils playing hide and seek all over the place, the matching hand-towels hanging by the sink, and the chipped mug that Tooru insists on keeping—for old times’ sake—already make it feel like home. There are trophies and medals gathered on a shelf, pictures with friends and family put on display in the living room, the Olympic flag hung on one of the walls, a new couch that they bought for half the original price, volleyballs stacked in a corner of the room. 

Tooru cranes his neck to see him when Shoyo walks in, his face illuminated by a warm smile. “Morning, Sho-chan.”

The endless care in Tooru’s eyes, aimed at him; the affectionate nickname that he gave Shoyo when they started going out, rolling off Tooru’s tongue; they send shivers down Shoyo’s spine as his hand sets on the small of Tooru’s back. “Good morning, Tooru.”

How has Oikawa, a high school rival that seemed to him so unreachable, become this to him? How could it be that their paths crossed again, so many years later, and ever since intertwined? Shoyo presses a kiss onto Tooru’s arm, and he tells himself that he cannot think too much into it. Somehow, he caught Tooru’s eye, and all he wishes for is to offer him a lifetime of the heaven that they first shared during those couple of days in Rio, when they had found an unexpected fragment of home in each other. Unbeknownst to them, back then they had given each other the very thing that they needed. A breath of passion; a friendly hand to pull oneself back up.

Peeking at the golden omelette in the pan, Shoyo feels the caress of Tooru’s lips on his temple. “The omelettes will be ready in a minute,” he says, focused on the dish he is preparing. It had not taken long for Shoyo to notice that whatever Tooru sets his mind to, be it volleyball, assembling furniture, or cooking, he does with the utmost dedication, never accepting to back down or leave it be if he cannot achieve the goal he imagined. Discipline, consistency, hard work; Shoyo and Tooru live by the same principles. But when they are together, the fun part never dies out. Shoyo wraps his arms around Tooru’s neck and plants another kiss onto his cheek, which has Tooru chuckle and teasingly mumble “the omelettes will burn if I get too distracted, Sho-chan.”

Shoyo pours steaming coffee into their mugs while Tooru is taking care of their meal, and when Tooru returns to the kitchen counter with two plates, the two of them are caught in the familiar rhythmicity of domestic routine. Shoyo’s body moves instinctively to leave room for Tooru who is setting down the plates, their arms brushing against each other, their legs bumping under the surface of the table. A tender touch, the gentle collision of their movements, fitting together. Tooru’s hand cups Shoyo’s cheek and he leans across the counter to kiss him on the lips, enthralled by the kindness that he reads on Shoyo’s face, the unbounded love that he sees in his brown eyes, speckled with gold under the morning light. Shoyo kisses back, with the impulse of a thousand butterflies taking off in the pit of his stomach. 

“Thank you for the breakfast,” Shoyo murmurs against Tooru’s lips, his hand softly going up Tooru’s tight forearms.

“Anything for my beloved,” Tooru flashes a smile at him, ever playful and loving, and glances at their plates. “Dig in while it’s still hot.”

“Itadakimasu!” 

The omlette is delicious. They eat, chat, and discuss the latest V. league news. Laughter is echoing in the kitchen, the sunlight is pouring into the room, catching in Shoyo’s blazing hair, and they cannot take their eyes off each other. In the afternoon, they will be playing beach volleyball again, then Tooru is to write back to a journalist who wishes to interview him for a Brazilian sport’s magazine—Shoyo took care of teaching Tooru the basics of Portuguese. Never has Shoyo thought that his life would come to this, having breakfast with Tooru in their very own apartment, their futures full of dreams that once seemed impossible. And, with every bite into the omelette, he tastes all the love that was put into building this life.

#hinata shoyo #oikawa tooru #hinata shoyo x oikawa tooru #oihina #oihina fanfiction #hinata shoyo fanfiction #oikawa tooru fanfiction #haikyuu! fanfiction #hq fanfiction #my writing #writing #haikyuu! one shots #hq one shots

[opheliafowler]

location: ophelia's chambers in sunspear, after the announcement was made of her engagement to dastan.

@myriamas​

the chamber was filled with the enticing aroma of sweet, spiced tead. kneeling beside a small fireplace, ophelia tended to the teapot, her mind awhirl with the sudden turn of events in the past few weeks. initially, her purpose had been to offer aid mor's father in his declining health, but now, much more was unfolding before her.

her father had acted swiftly, arranging the match soon after their return home. ophelia couldn't help but wonder if something had troubled him during their journey to the reach. maybe fearing she would not return home at all. perhaps he feared the charming poet would sweep his daughter off her feet and she would be stuck there.

things had changed so much that she was no longer merely in the company of her princess, her mentor, and her friend, but soon to be her good sister. completing the brewing process, ophelia presented a cup of tea to myriam. reaching down ophelia took myriam’s hand and brought it to her forehead—a time-honored gesture of respect passed down through generations in skystead. it symbolized reverence for those above them, elders, or those deserving of profound respect. the act silently sought a blessing of wisdom and guidance, fitting for someone as revered as myriam in their present circumstances. with a warm smile, ophelia shared, "i made one of your favorites. actually i think it may be the same blend i first prepared for you. only, i'd like to think it has improved since then." her laughter filled the space, lightening the mood.

returning with her own cup, ophelia settled beside myriam—her confidante, mentor, and now, something more. throughout her time as a near-ward of the martells, myriam had been ophelia's guiding light, helping her navigate the intricate challenges of womanhood in dorne. there remained much to learn and understand, and now, a new path to tread.

"are you alright? with the prince's health declining, i can only imagine the weight on your shoulders.," ophelia inquired, her voice tinged with genuine concern, reaching out to ensure myriam's well-being amid the unspoken weight of their current situation. though the topic that lay before them was yet untouched, ophelia chose to dance around it, not quite ready to broach it just yet.

#;;myriam #no need to match length just setting the scene

[yeehawbvby]

Falling Away With You | Ch. 19

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: This one is a bit info-heavy, involving a long talk about magic stuff between you and Ras, so it might be boring. 

I apologize for that ヽ(；▽；)ノ I hope y’all like it anyway! x

Author’s Note: Friendly reminder to refer to the last chapter for a visual of this version of Rasmodius!

Btw - I use “foreign” as a descriptor, but in reality, this version of Ras is supposed to have an English accent. I’m not sure what the Stardew equivalent to England is, if there is one ^^”

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

As Magnus leads me into the main room, he grabs two large red cushions off a shelf to the left. In front of it is a huge cauldron, brewing something green and sparkly. On the other side is what I can only describe as a seance circle, with various objects scattered around it. We keep going until we reach the fireplace and he places our seats on the ground.

“As you can see, I’ve not much room for furniture. I hope this is alright.”

“It’s perfect!” I sit on what has to be the fluffiest cushion I’ve ever felt, promptly getting cozy.

“Would you like anything to drink? Some tea, perhaps?” He sounds nervous. “Forgive me if that’s no longer customary. It’s been a while since I last hosted a mundane such as yourself.” 

A mundane? I shake my head. “You’re doing fine,” I assure him, not bothering to ask what he meant. “Tea sounds great.” Ever since drinking the tea Sebastian made me after I broke down in front of him, I’ve been so into that dumb leaf water. 

I fidget with the hem of my shirt, watching Magnus’ elegant movements. He brings out a kettle, two mugs, and some tea bags from a cabinet, filling the pitcher in a nearby sink. He then boils it with his bare hands. As humanoid as he is, I guess he might truly be one of those elementals I’ve read about… I wonder if magic is a learned thing, or if he was born with it.

He glimpses over — given his constant ability to know where I am, I fucking guess, he probably knows I’m observing him. I feel my cheeks flush at the sudden attention, but he offers a kind smile.

It feels wrong to feel so fuzzy around this guy, but something about him is so… captivating. I shake the weird thoughts from my head, deciding to study the multicolored flames in front of me. Feeling thankful they’re pretty enough to distract me from the flips my stomach is doing. And also because it’s cold in here. 

Magnus approaches with our drinks, and I softly thank him before stealing a sip. It’s cinnamon-y and vanilla-y, with baby hints of pepper in it. Maybe a spiced chai latte sort of thing? Either way, this is nice. 

“Good?” the wizard next to me pries, now cross legged on his own cushion. 

“Mhm,” I smile. I want to ask so many questions, but something keeps holding me back from speaking.

“I’m sure your thoughts are plentifully occupied, at the moment. If you have any inquiries, please, ask away.” Good timing.

I think for a sec, trying to figure out where to start, before settling on this: “You called me a mundane before. What’s that?”

“In short, the mundane are any living beings without innate ties to the arcane.” He tangents slightly, “Although, one may grow connected to the elements — hence, why you were so heavily drawn toward my abode over time.” How’d he know I was? Did he do that himself, somehow? “It was the spirits themselves that urged you here tonight in particular, I assume.”

…Uh-huh.

I’ve always been more of an atheist than anything, using the spirits and Yoba and whatnot as figures of speech more than anything. Y’know, like astrology and whatever the fuck. Are these spirits he’s talking about real? Or is he just full of shit? I probably shouldn’t be doubting it, considering his ability to produce flames from thin air.

“If a mundane was not birthed with the ability to cast spells,” he goes on, “or to communicate with the land and air around them — if it becomes something that simply just happens over time, if ever — then that is the factor that separates a mundane from a full-fledged elemental.”

I nod slowly, honestly appreciating the over-explanations. It’s rare that peop–humans, god it feels weird referring to them as such an “other” now, ever get so detailed with me. Given how much I often need such directness to be able to understand someone, it’s really nice. Maybe it’s because he’s not entirely a human? Or maybe he’s just more like me, specifically, than I’d assumed with all this fantastical shit going on.

“So how do you know that I’m not an elemental as well, if you think I’m so tied to magic?” I ask.

“Well, the appearance of an elemental is much more unique than that of a mundane. Dwarves, elves, goblins, and shadow people, amongst other ‘monsters’ that go bump in the night, are all elementals. A mundane adult is harder to separate from the elementals such as myself, as opposed to mundane children, given many of my kind are so human-like. For example, a mundane’s dyed hair may not revert to its natural state…” 

I immediately think of Abby and Sebastian. I wonder if they know about any of this? 

“They may receive a tattoo, only for the ink to change colors or shapeshift in select situations or over time. A stretch mark or section of cellulite present in the skin may shape itself into a rune, and embed itself as a darker and more permanent scar or indent than the rest. The possibilities are endless, with some more subtle than others.”

Magnus takes a sip of tea and clears his throat before continuing. “However, with all of that said, those of us who are more adept in our abilities can typically just tell who belongs to which category of being. And as I’ve implied to you already, I can sense the link to the spirits brewing within you, young (y/n). A strong one, at that!”

Magnus smiles proudly as he speaks, as though he’s eager to teach me about all of this. It’s obnoxiously endearing, but oh my fucking god this is a lot to take in… 

I just wanted to go on a fun, late-night expedition to see what was here. Not to have a crisis over my spiritual and magical connection to the universe. I don’t have anything overtly weird going on with my appearance, like he said I might. I wonder when my signs will show, or if they ever will show. 

I take a deep breath and a sip of tea, eyebrows scrunched, gears working hard in my puny little mundane brain.

“I apologize for the abundance of information. It is not my intention to cause distress.”

“No, you’re fine,” I sigh. “It is a lot, but I appreciate you being so willing to educate me.” I place my mug on the ground in front of me. “This isn’t one of those stereotypical…” I deepen my voice as much as I can, and try to match his proper, foreign accent, “‘You have powers, now you have to save the world!’” I revert back, “...kinda things, is it?”

Magnus laughs, “It may not be now, but one can never know for certain.”

I nod. Mentally crossing my fingers that it’ll never become that way. “Why do you keep calling me ‘young?’ You don’t look much older than me.” 

“I’ve been alive for centuries, actually.”

“No fucking way!” I snap a hand over my mouth. “Sorry. Bad habit.” When have I ever apologized for cursing before? Why am I so hellbent on impressing this guy?

Shaking his head, Magnus smiles mischievously. “Apology accepted.”

“Wait, so how old are you?”

“Oh, I’ve lost track.” He lazily waves his hand once in front of him. “I cannot even remember my true name. I took this one up as a young apprentice.”

“So, it’s some anime style, ~higher being~ in a younger human body sorta deal?” Removing the cup from his lips, damp from his drink, Magnus tilts his head a little and furrows his brow. “What is an ‘anime’?”

I should’ve known he wouldn’t be one for pop culture references. I vaguely wave, dismissing the subject. “Nevermind. Did you do, like… ‘normal’ human-like things before you started doing all this?” 

He shakes his head. “If you mean to ask if I went to school or had a corporate career, then no. My entire upbringing revolves around the arcane. My studies mainly included reading about the history of magic around the world, and familiarizing myself with grimoires.”

That sounds fun, honestly. Much more fun than anything I learned in grade school or college.

Next!

“How does someone know if they have this connection that I apparently do?”

“They more often than not are believers in the elements to begin with. One might figure it out for themself over time, as they notice the magical presence in the world around them. Some might also just stumble upon it, as you did, while others never learn at all.”

That makes sense. 

Next! 

“If the town rejects you so much, why do you stay?”

“I’m Pelican Town’s – well, all of Stardew Valley’s – assigned protector, appointed by Ferngill Republic Ministry of Magic. With the presence of so many monsters, it is necessary that I maintain a powerful barrier over the valley at all times.”

I stop my onslaught of questioning for a moment to internalize that.

This guy is the sole reason we’re safe from monsters and shadows and whatever other – dare I say, evil – elementals there are out there? 

Holy fucking shit, he’s so cool!

But also… “Isn’t that tiring?”

A flash of pink takes reign over Magnus’ widened eyes, but only for no more than half a second. Is he embarrassed?

Come to think of it, he must get really lonely over here. I wonder if he just needs a friend, and created that weird energy I feel around the perimeter himself to lure in those “worthy” of his companionship. Unless that was just a me thing…

Or, maybe I’m thinking too far into this.

I quiet my thoughts quickly in hopes that he didn’t just read me. Magnus’ surprised expression turns into a soft smile, and his irises fade to a melancholy periwinkle. “I suppose it is a lot, at times, yes. But no need to worry, I assure you that Pelican Town will remain safe.”

“No, like, what about you, though? Is it safe for you to be using so much energy like that all the time?” Is mana a real thing? I think to myself.

“Don’t fret,” he sighs. “I’ll be alright as long as the valley is as well.”

He doesn’t get that I’m asking how he is, I don’t think. “Doesn't it get… I dunno. Frustrating?” I meet his eyes again, my brow furrowed. “Being isolated here, while also being in charge of the safety of the same people who reject you… ” I trail off.

Magnus looks down, seeming to internalize my question. As he pans back up, his orbs deepen into more of a navy blue. I wonder if he’s aware that his eyes are fucking mood rings.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry,” I mutter, a little embarrassed. “It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about that sort of thing.” I’m just worried about you, a complete stranger, for some reason.

A rumbly laugh emits from him, eyes returning to their natural (I think I’m more confident in calling the burgundy-ish “natural” now) state.

“I’d never have thought a mundane such as yourself could be such a kind and caring individual. Not many are.” 

I’m about to ask what he means by that, not sure if it’s more of an insult or an observation, but his handsome, playful smile shuts me right up. I can feel my cheeks darkening.

“It’s alright,” he continues. “Everything you’ve asked is valid, and I do appreciate your concern for my well-being. It’s merely that I cannot remember the last time someone asked me about myself like this.” Magnus sighs. “Must’ve been when I was still seeing my ex-wife,” he mumbles, seemingly more to himself than me.

Although he’d vaguely mentioned how old he is, it didn’t occur to me that Magnus might’ve had friends and relationships prior to being basically shackled to the valley. 

Before I realize how blunt the question is, I blurt out, “How often have you been married?”

He answers, unfazed, “Just once. She’s a witch — one of the most powerful I’ve ever met, at that. But we grew apart, and she fled, channeling her heartbreak into the dark arts.”

“Has she ever been a threat to the valley?”

“Of course not. She resides quite locally – she’d never risk her own safety in heated vengeance.”

My eyes widen, half-shocked and half-kind of excited, honestly. “One of my neighbors is an evil witch?” I shouldn’t be surprised I guess, considering I now know that one of them is… ya know. A fucking wizard.

Magnus chuckles, “‘Locally’ doesn’t necessarily mean within the visible terrain of the valley itself! Although, there is a portal near the train station which only she can access, for the time being...” 

“Y’all have portals?”

“We have plenty you don’t know about, (y/n).” 

His face almost looks smug. Is this his way of bragging? He has a stupid lopsided grin, lazy eyes, furrowed brows... The ol’ razzle dazzle. Heh. The Rasmodazzle. 

He sure is razzling my dazzl— Shut up (y/n).

Wait.

“Can you— no.” I wince. “Have you been reading my mind?” 

“Here and there, yes.”

Fuck. “Isn’t that a bit invasive,” I wince, “Like, for someone you’ve just met?” 

Magnus’ eyes widen and flush pink. “I hadn’t thought of that… the magically inclined who can use the ability often do, as a means of communicating. Telepathy, as you’ve likely heard of it.” Holy shit… is Sebastian actually telepathic then? “I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable.” 

“You’re fine, I’m more just worried about what you’ve… read? Heard?” I tilt my head. “Whatever.” I shake my head. “However that stuff works.”

His eyes deepen, a dark red — not as much angry as it is devilishly sexyyyuhhhh–suspicious! Yes, suspicious is what I was thinking — nudging the blush that once painted his irises down to his cheeks. 

“Are you attempting to hide anything in particular, (y/n)?” 

My own heated features probably give me away, as I mentally smack myself for being so easily flustered. I shake my head, hoping he just knows the answer to the previous one without needing me to explain it. Or not. I guess I’d rather he just… not bring it up if he does know he’s razzling and dazzling me. 

“Oh, I almost forgot that I came here for a specific reason. I have a question for you!”

“Have you not been asking questions since you’ve arrived?” 

“W-well. Yeah. I guess… But like. Agh,” I stumble for a moment, finding my bearings. “Compared to what we’ve been discussing, this seems so pedestrian,” I sigh. “So. For some background. I have this friend. Well, she’s not my friend, but I want to be her friend, because she’s friends with my friends, and I’m not great at making friends myself, unless they’re the ones, like… Initiating friendship? If that makes sense.”

Magnus nods along. The corner of his mouth quirks up as I struggle, but he kindly chooses not to overtly judge my fumbling. I look down at my lap.

“She likes the idea of adventures and sword fighting and exploring and stuff, but from what I hear, she’s not a skilled enough fighter to do anything with that passion. So… I was hoping to take her on a little tour around this area, and uh…” as I near the whole point, I shy away. Do I ask? 

Without looking up, I hear the soft hums of Magnus’ laughter beside me. “You want to accompany her to my tower.”

I timidly nod. “I just thought it would be cool, before I knew there was a whole person living here.” I correct myself, “Er, well, I figured someone would be living here, obviously, and I came to ask permission, but I, like, didn’t think I’d be getting to know them or whatever, and umm…” I screw my eyes shut, frustrated by my lack of social abilities. Fucking hell lady, use your words! I try to keep going but a signature squeak escapes instead.

“Please spare yourself,” he muses. I squeak again. Fuck me. ”Perhaps I’d allow it, under the condition that you assist me in return.”

“How?” I mutter, feeling more able to use my words, but still rattled enough to struggle.

“Would this…acquaintance of yours happen to be young Abigail?”

I meet his eyes. I should be unsurprised that he knows considering telepathy and whatever, but— “Yeah,” I respond curiously. 

“Ah, perfect!” Magnus beams. “I would like to meet her.”

I squint, wondering what in the world he could want with Abby. 

“I mustn’t get into detail,” he continues, eyes fading to pink, “but in short… Ahaha, this is strange to say aloud.” He laughs nervously, recuperating as I patiently wait for the explanation. “I have reason to believe that she may be my daughter.” Magnus’ now-maroon eyes are filled with an anxious determination as he brings contact back to my features.

I stare, slack-jawed. “W-what do you mean? What about the family she lives with?”

His eyes shift back to blue again. “I just… wish to speak with her.” I study him, his features more crestfallen than nervous at this point. Magnus sighs. “It may not be my place to insert myself into a life she’s already established. But the possibility that she is my own blood has been eating away at me for over two decades, (y/n).” 

The melancholy passion in his voice tugs at my heart a lil’ as he speaks. 

“I had, to put it lightly, a fling with Abigail’s mother up until a few months prior to her birth. It seemed to be no more than a coincidence, in the beginning, as she’d already been in an established relationship with Pierre.” He mumbles a bit, “Granted, I had not known about this, and I put an end to things once I made the discovery, but that’s beyond the point,” rolls his eyes, and then continues normally. “Now, aside from the Spirit’s Eve festival, which I collaborate with Linus to prepare and disassemble each year, I opt to merely observe town events from where I likely will go unnoticed. You have witnessed so much yourself, at this year’s Flower Dance.

“At first, this was to ponder my theory with a more ‘hands on’ approach. But the longer I watched, and the more I learned about each villager, the closer of a connection I felt to Abigail. The older she became, the more she began to look like myself. I began to predict that she might have a weak arcane spark within her.

“Whether I am correct or not, I desire to meet with her up close. All it would take is one encounter, an exchange of few words, for me to truly sense whether or not my suspicions hold true. And if they are not, I will have no reason to commune with her further, nor will I introduce her to the arcane.”

I purse my lips, thinking before giving him an answer.

How do I know Magnus is not actually just some creep with the hots for her? Well, I have no way of knowing, but I trust him for some reason. I’m not friends with Abby yet, might never be, but it would feel wrong to put her in danger even if so.

Plus, if he’s right… god, she would probably think this is so cool.

Or, if she has an inherent distrust for women, she might view it more like an elaborate scheme against her. I don’t fuckin’ know how her brain works. Hmm…

“Okay,” I sigh. He looks shocked, but happy. “But, can we pretend we don’t know each other, whenever this happens?”

“Of course.” His brows are furrowed as he tilts his head ever so slightly. “May I ask why?“

“I’m worried she might think it’s some weird set up. Which I guess it kinda will be, now… but I don’t want her to think I have bad intentions.”

“I understand your concern.” He grins and exclaims, “Very well!”

Given how long I’ve been here, I use this ending conversation to see myself out. We agree to meet again soon, so I can possibly begin some magical training of sorts, and to plan out a good way for me to woo Abby – Magnus voiced his desire for my side of things to work, even if his own fails. 

After a warm goodbye from the wizard, I shut the door and begin my trek home. He’s in my head again for one last parting message, as I descend down his front staircase. I stop in place so he can “say” his piece. I dunno the range this shit has. Like, is it similar to bluetooth or something?

“There are many adventures ahead for you and I. I truly look forward to your company, (y/n).”

I smile, thinking to myself about how excited I am, too.

#sebastian x reader #sebastian #sdv sebastian #sdv #sdv rasmodius #sve magnus #magnus rasmodius x reader #stardew valley rasmodius #sdv sebastian x reader #stardew sebastian #sebastian stardew #sebastian headcanons #stardew valley #stardew #sve #sebsatian sdv #sdv wizard #stardew wizard #magnus rasmodius #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley sebastian x reader #wizard x reader #rasmodius x reader #FAWY

[thenightling]

Well, now that I've updated my favorite Christmas songs list. Here is my list of favorite Halloween songs. Note, this list is subject to change based on my mood.

Bonus: Locked Within the Crystal Ball by Black Moore's Night. It's not actually Halloween related but it has a very elemental magick feel to it so I felt it was worth a mention.

Also bonus mention for Queen's A Kind of Magic.

25. Witch's brew by Omnia. The lyrics are directly taken from Shakespeare's MacBeth but because the play is considered to be cursed the song may be cursed. The story goes that the scene with he three witches was based on an encounter Shakespeare had with some actual witches and as punishment for making them characters in his play, the play was cursed. Now actors and theatre crew consider it bad luck to say the name of the play. It's often referred to as "The Scottish Play" and the only time its name can be said is when you are talking specifically about the character. So because it might be cursed, I put it very low on the list.

24. Lost in the Shadows from the Lost Boys soundtrack. This is an old favorite as I used to watch that movie every summer but I associate it more with summer than Halloween which is why I put it so low on the list.

23. The Master's song, sung by Renfield in Dracula the musical by Frank Wildhorn.

22. Life after Life from Dracula the musical by Frank Wildhorn and sung by Dracula and Lucy.

21. Anything can happen on Halloween sung by Tim Curry for the TV movie version of The Worst Witch.

20. Hex Girl from The Hex Girls for Scooby Doo and The Witch's Ghost. From the Wiccan Eco Goth equivalent of The Spice Girls.

19. Touching old Magic AKA The Halloween song from the Halloween door episode of The Real Ghostbusters animated series. Surprisingly good for a song from an animated series from the 80s.

18. Halloween by John McCutchen. This was a pain to track down. I heard it on Halloween radio and liked it and it took me a while to find a decent recording of it.

17. Halloween by J. P. Ashkar. This song was a Tiktok hit last Halloween and the full (longer) version of the audio can be found on Youtube. It's really very catchy.

16. Creepy Crawlies by Scary Bitches. This song was (for many years) the unofficial theme song to the Spirit Halloween store. The first time I heard it was on the radio in a Spirit Halloween store.

15. Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps) by David Bowie. Not quite Halloween related but it plays on Halloween radio and so does Magic Dance (which is listed under this one). The album Scary Monsters (and super Creeps) inspired Danny Elfman during his Oingo Boingo days.

14. Magic Dance by David Bowie for the movie Labyrinth. Sung by Jareth, The Goblin King, and his goblin minion, to entertain a human baby.

13. The Witches are back to the tune of the similarly named Elton John song, from Hocus Pocus 2.

12. One way or Another. The Hocus Pocus 2 version sung by Bette Midler.

11. I put a spell on you. Bette Midler's cover from Hocus Pocus.

10. Horror in Action by Kayak. For some reason this song makes me think of Cain and The House of Mystery horror anthology comics by DC.

9. You won't survive by Count Crow. A parody version of "I will Survive" sung by Dracula to his victims. I just think it's darkly funny.

8. Fright Night from J. Geils Band. This is the title track for the movie Fright Night from 1985 starring the late Roddy McDowall as a hasbeen horror actor who is dragged into the world of the supernatural when teenager, Charlie Brewster, believes his neighbor to be a real vampire. Peter Vincent must overcome his fears and becomes the hero he always pretended to be. Roddy McDowall's voice is even sampled briefly in the song.

7. Monster Mash by Bobby "Boris" Pickett. How can I not love this classic? But my favorite version of it is a recording I actually only heard relatively recently. Vincent Price's cover from the 1970s.

6. Thriller by Michael Jackson and Vincent Price. I mostly love it for the iconic dance but most especially for Vincent Price's poem / "Rap" and of course his iconic cackle at the end of the song. My friend Sarah used Vincent Price's cackle from the song as my ringtone on her cellphone for many years.

5. Ghostbusters by Ray Parker Jr. This one is a childhood favorite. The title track to the original Ghostbusters movie and the theme song for The Real Ghostbusters animated series. The animated series inspired me to study parapsychology and made me want to be a parapsychologist when I was thirteen.

A recent interview with Ray Parker Jr. revealed that he loves the song because it always makes people smile. No one is ever crying when the Ghostbusters song is playing. He said how even little kids will answer "Who you gonna call?" with "Ghostbusters!" And that's what he likes about the song, it brings people joy. There's no negative emotion attached to the song. And I realized he's right. It's just a fun song.

4. Pet Sematary by The Ramones. Deliberately misspelt, this song was the title track for the movie of the same name, based on the novel by Stephen King. I actually like the song more than the movie. The song is from the point of view of someone who doesn't want to be raised from the dead. In role playing games I always made this the favorite song of my original character, Shelley.

A cover of the song was performed by Plain White Ts for the soundtrack of Tim Burton's remake of Frankenweenie (he was remaking his own short film but as stop motion). I actually prefer the original Ramones version. Though I do love it's use for a Frankenstein story.

3. Weird Science by Danny Elfman / Oingo Boingo. I love the song for it's bouncy nature. Yes, it's "Mainstream' but so what? Oingo Boingo fans who refuse to like any of their "mainstream" songs are (in my opinion) kind of pretentious. Yes, it was written for a cheesy teen comedy that later became a 90s teen sitcom on USA Network. But so what? The song is from the point of view of a scientist / sorcerer or alchemist attempting to create life. It's heavily inspired by Bride of Frankenstein and the version used in the opening of the Weird Science TV series samples clips from Bride of Frankenstein.

In role playing games I often made this the favorite song of my "therapist for monsters" character Percy Van Helsing.

2. Dead Man's Party. This song will now always remind me of a wonderful time I had with my cousin and soul sister, Jessica Louise Conroy and her son, Joey, at Six Flags last Halloween season. It played a lot over the speakers there and was already a Halloween favorite of mine. It's by Danny Elfman from when he was the lead singer of the rock band Oingo Boingo. And it makes reference to the scary story "Room for One More." Today Danny Elfman uses it as his encore performance at the end of his Nightmare before Christmas concerts but between 1996 until 2015 he did not perform it live. Now it's tradition that he adds it to his annual Nightmare before Christmas concerts. And the song became the basis for Six Flag's Halloween stage show of the same name, "Dead Man's Party."

1. This is Halloween. Written by Danny Elfman for Nightmare before Christmas it finally reached the Billboard Top 100 for the first time this year. My favorite recording of it is the demo version sung by Danny Elfman himself because it sounds like Jack Skellington is giving you a tour of his home town.

Another Bonus: I also love Halloween Bash by Irving Fink. I didn't put it on the list before because I couldn't remember who recorded it. I knew it as "Monster Bash" from Halloween Radio, a song I heavily associate with my dearest friend Lorie Pringle

[favouritefallfeelings]

Fall drinks!

I'm sure there are a lot of people that could say that the warm drinks and beverages of the fall season are certainley the best part about the wonderful time. In my opinion, I can most definitley agree and admit that I have been to Starbucks one too many times this fall. Which brings me to my main blog topic today, the best drinks of this season, whether they are from a coffee shop or can be easily made to enjoy at home.

Starting off strong, a tried and true cold season favourite, hot chocolate. I'm sure many of you have at least had one warm cup of hot chocolate in your lifetime, it definitley makes the perfect drink to warm up and enjoy anytime and anywhere. Of course the original milk chocolate cocoa is always good, I wanted to think of different variations of the drink to either add more seasonal ingrideinets such as pumpkin or just new ways to take it to the next level.

Pumpkin white hot chocolate:

This simple recipe is an easy way to bring those cozy fall flavours into this classic warm drink. To a saucepan, you add 3 cups of whole milk, 1 cup of canned pumpkin puree, 1 and a 1 /2 teaspoons of pumpkin pie spice and 1 teaspooon of vanilla extract. After a few minutes on low heat, the mixture is ready to be taken off the stove and you can add 4 ounces of your favourite white chocolate bar, stirring until it's fully melted. This recipe is a perfect way to end a cold fall day and warm up while drinking. It doesn't take long and I'd argue it's even better than a regular cup of hot chocolate.

Salted caramel hot chocolate:

Another simple way to turn your regular hot chocolate into something new and delicious, this one with an added salted caramel flavour. This recipe is divided into two parts, the caramel sauce and the drink itself. Starting with the sauce, stirring in 2/3 cup of heavy cream, 1/2 cup of granulated sugar, 1/2 cup of light brown sugar, 1/2 cup of salted butter and 1 and a 1/2 teaspoons of vanilla extract on medium heat. Letting the mixture bubble up for 2-3 minutes and then taking it off heat for it to thicken. Now for the drink, combine 3/4 cup of the caramel sauce, 2 cups of heavy cream, 4 cups of milk, 2 cups of milk chocolate chips into a crockpot. This should be set on a low temperature for 2-3 hours, once finished mix in 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract and a pinch of coarse sea salt. This recipe takes longer then most, but I can say it's a fan favourite in my house. I tried this out and everyone loved it, we even had leftover caramel sauce to top off the whipped cream on the drink, a 10/10 in my opinion.

Next I want to talk about my recommendations from Starbucks, specifically their fall drink menu. Without a doubt, my all time favourite drink of the Starbucks fall menu is their 'Iced Pumpkin Cream Chai Tea Latte'. I admit it sounds a little bit complicated but it really is simple. With a chai tea base (I like to subsitute the whole milk for oat milk) and a pumpkin flavoured cold foam on top, arguabley the best part about the drink. Another of my favourites is the classic 'Pumpkin Spice Latte', it's a classic, it's not fall without having at least one of these during the season. I will have to admit that I prefer Tim Horton's a little more than Starbucks, but never the less, you can't go wrong with this one. Lastly, another great use for the seasonal pumpkin cold foam would be to top off a cold brew with it! I get this on the days I need some extra energy. A 'Pumpkin Spice Cold Brew' is such an easy way to make a regular drink perfectly right for the fall season!

I would definitley consider myself a beverage enthusiast, the fall being obviously my favourite time of the year for these comforting and delicious drinks.

Recipe credits:

[durotoswrites]

Winter prompts! Hmmm... what about Decorating and Vishnal (and the rest of the butler squad if you feel inclined)

I see what you did there! I'll have you know I played some RF4 this week, hehe. Butler Squad, roll out! I had a lot of fun with this one. Thank you for the ask!

Winter Themed Prompts - Asks are open!

Vishnal wasn’t sure how many times he had attempted to hang the pine boughs, but the muscles in his arms were screaming from constantly adjusting the garland.

This is just part of of the job. A good butler should never complain about any sort of discomfort.

He furrowed his brow.

Power through – no one else is complaining.

He felt sweat roll into his eyes as he climbed down the ladder to observe his handiwork. After wiping his face carefully on his handkerchief (after all, a butler should be as pristine as his castle), he stared at the greenery, frowning and turning his head.

“What do you think, Clorica?”

She blinked rapidly, straightening her posture. “Oh? The garland? It looks fine to me,” she replied with a heavy yawn.

He tilted his head, biting his lip. “It’s not perfect.”

“It’s not going to be exactly symmetrical with natural branches, though. That’s part of what makes it so pretty.” She continued placing delicate glass ornaments in the large glass vase before her. It wasn’t long before she closed her eyes, her hands deftly placing the shiny baubles in various containers.

Vishnal was about to chide her for “resting her eyes” as she liked to call it, when a booming voice emerged from the hallway.

“Has Vishnal finally finished that doorway yet?” The scent of spiced tea preceded the head butler. Volkanon had been busy with his specialty brew, still donning a spotless apron.

Snapping to attention, he turned to face him. “Y-Yes, Sir!” He held his breath as his boss appraised his handiwork.

The pine boughs had been hung around the door frame carefully, and an elegant wreath adorned the door, complete with a stylish and lavish bow.

“Not bad, but do you intend on leaving the area above the door so bare? This is our special guest’s room we’re talking about.”

Vishnal felt his cheeks flame. “O-Of course, I’ll fix it right away!”

After much precise measuring and several trips up and down ladders, two matching bows were placed at the top corners of the door frame.

Clorica clapped her hands with delight. “Aw, how cute! It kinda resembles Frey’s hair, doesn’t it?”

He let out an audible gasp. “Oh, no! I’ll have to take it down, and…”

“Aw, I like it.” Clorica’s voice had a sad tone to it. “Although, it would look nice with some ornaments spread throughout, and maybe it could use something for a centerpiece?”

Clorica sleepily shuffled through a box and produced a ball of greenery adorned with white berries. “She’ll be sure to like this!”

Glancing at Clorica’s pristine handiwork, he had a feeling that Clorica’s taste was more refined than his own. Thanking her profusely, he climbed the ladder again, hanging the final adornment as Clorica helped him center it. Volkanon’s commanding request for them to try the tea (which both butlers knew would take longer than a mere sampling) left Vishnal scurrying to finish the work, dropping and shattering one of the ornaments in the process. Clorica promised to buy some time for him as she went to Volkanon.

Sweeping the mistake off of the floor, Vishnal silently berated himself.

It looks like I still have a long way before even becoming a semi-decent butler… Why can’t I stop screwing things up?

A delighted squeal caught his attention. He turned his head to see Frey staring at the hall, her mittened hands over her heart as her jaw dropped.

“Wow… this is gorgeous!”

A smile crossed his lips before he knew it; Frey’s excitement always gave him that effect. “It was a group effort, and I’m glad that you enjoy it!”

“Enjoy it? I love it!” She whirled around, taking in the sights, her long pigtails moving with her. “Ah, and my door! It’s so pretty!” She stood in the doorway, looking up at the ornaments.

Vishnal set his broom against the wall and wrung his hands, his heart pounding. “I’m so glad you like it, Princess.”

Her eyes traveled toward the centerpiece hanging above her and her face went scarlet. “You did this?”

“I had some suggestions, but I assembled it.”

She shyly looked down at her boots. “Thank you. I really like it. Um… if you’re available, will you wake me tomorrow morning?” She looked back up at the mistletoe ball, not meeting his gaze.

“Of course! You can count on me!” His cheeks hurt from grinning.

“Well, it’s been a long day. I think I’m going to turn in early and have a cup of hot tea.”

“Tea?!” Vishnal’s eyes widened as he remembered Clorica stalling for him. “Ah, I forgot that I’m supposed to meet with Volkanon. Have a good night, Princess, and sleep well.” He flashed her a smile as he hurried down the hallway.

Frey clung to the door frame, watching him leave. Her face flushed deeply, but the winter chill had nothing to do with it.

#rune factory #rune factory 4 #rf #rf4 #fanfiction #fanfic #writing prompts #ask box games #rf4 vishnal #rf4 clorica #rf4 volkanon #rf4 frey #frey x vishnal #vishnal x forte #beck-a-leck #thank you for the prompt! <3